


The Stone in the Sword

by Sportscandycollective



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Horror, Dragons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, More like reluctant partners, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Violence, Warnings May Change, Well sort of they aren't really enemies, some horror elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 145,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sportscandycollective/pseuds/Sportscandycollective
Summary: Another fantasy AU because we don't have enough of that.The country of Lazyfell has long been at peace, with its cornerstone kingdoms living in harmony and the people prosperous and joyful. But as of recent, rumors of a long dead darkness have been popping up within the peaceful lands, and fears that the time of peaceful quiet is coming to an abrupt end have left the leaders shaking. Who will deliver the country from its destruction at the hands of the God of All-Consuming Darkness and, more importantly, how?All the while, a young elven warrior named Sportacus begins his journey to save his homeland, and ends up possessing a sword with a distinct personality and a mysterious past that may complicate his journey a bit.**ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE**





	1. The Introduction

_“Robbie Rotten, you have pleaded not guilty to the charge of not just using dark magic but using dark magic to pursue your own selfish goals. However, the evidence against you is staggering, from witness accounts to residual magic analysis. The council may now deliver their verdict.”_

_“Thank you, grand headmaster. We find the mage, Robbie Rotten, guilty of tampering with dark magic.”_

_“Very well. Robbie Rotten, as punishment for your flagrant usage of dark magic, you are sentenced to imprisonment within the council’s chosen object. Council?”_

_“Grand headmaster, we have elected for Robbie Rotten to be imprisoned within this standard arming sword. Within this sword, he will remain imprisoned until he is used to successfully serve a just and noble cause.”_

_“Very good. Well, Robbie Rotten, this is your sentence, which will be brought about immediately. We all wish you only the best of luck, and that you may take this time to reflect upon your heinous crime and find remorse within your heart.”_

_“Celestial Mage Astrid, begin the binding incantation.”_

\--

Quiet.

Once again, it was a quiet day, just like most of the days he’d experienced.

And as usual, he hated days like this.

Rolling a small marble underneath his palm, he laid his cheek against the wood of the counter, looking up lazily at the foggy windows to watch the traffic walking outside.

Internally he prayed that one, just _one_ person would stop by, even if to just ask for directions.

No one answered his prayer.

He sighed; despite a wealth of adventurers and warriors popping up recently, the weapons selling business had slowed to a standstill.

Groaning, he laid his face against the counter and thought about a long-lost offer to be a travelling caricature artist for the king of the local kingdom. He thought about how he’d rejected it despite the temptation.

“ _Oh no friend, the weapons business is far more stable. I think I’ll just stay here, I’m sure that’s the best job for me. Stupid, stupid, stupid…_ ” thought the shop owner, lightly hitting his head against the counter.

The bell above the door rang.

The owner’s head shot up, his eyes shooting wide open.  
Was that…a customer?  
Unless he truly had hit such a level of boredom and was hallucinating a very detailed stranger, it must be.  
The customer looked about the shop, his eyes darting to the various shelves and racks of weapons and accessories.  
The owner took the standard second of delay that most customers gave before they realized a clerk was present to get a good glance at this stranger.  
The man stood smaller than the average man, but seemed to make up for that with how built he appeared, which even his loose blue tunic and robes couldn’t disguise. Upon his head was a messy mop of blonde curls, tied haphazardly into a short ponytail. Staring, the owner nearly missed his coal black mustache, straight and pointy, due to being fixed upon the stranger’s ears.  
“ _Is that…an elf? What is he doing so far away from Alfenheim?_ ” thought the clerk.  
The stranger must’ve felt the owner’s staring, for he finally turned to look at him.  
“Oh, hello? Are you the owner of the store?” He asked.

The staring game abruptly ended as the clerk stood up straight, giving his best smile.

“Yes, yes, welcome! Welcome to Vappurnicus The Mighty’s Emporium of Assorted Weaponry and Accessories!” He said cheerily.  
The stranger blinked, staring in confusion.  
“That’s…quite a mouthful?” He said.  
The clerk slightly deflated and laughed awkwardly.  
“I suppose so. Really that’s just the official name of the store. But most people just call it Vappy’s because, well, that’s my name. Hi.” He said.  
The stranger smiled.  
“Well hello Vappy, my name is Sportacus.” He said.  
“Sportacus, huh? Now that’s not a common name.” noted Vappy, before pausing. “It’s a good name of course! Great name! Please don’t leave, I’m sorry.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“No worries.” He said. “You said you’re Vappurnicus ‘the mighty’? Quite a title.”  
“Yeah, my dad named me that because he hoped I’d become some great warrior. And, well, you can see how that turned out.” Vappy said sheepishly.  
“You retired and took over the store?” suggested Sportacus.

Vappy paused, his face blanking.

“Uh, sure, let’s go with that. Anyways, are you looking for something specific?” asked Vappy.  
“Right, yes. I’m looking for a weapon, something durable and not too flashy.” Sportacus.  
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve got pretty much every weapon imaginable. What’s your go-to tool? I’ve got maces, axes, battleaxes, flails, spears, bows, crossbows, clubs…”  
“Just a sword. I don’t need anything fancy.” Sportacus said.  
Vappy snapped his fingers.  
“Good call. I’ve got just the thing.” He said, ducking below the counter.  
Sportacus could hear the sound of metal clanking against metal and things shifting and tumbling, with Vappy uttering a low curse.  
Vappy emerged a minute later, lifting a beautifully crafted arming sword, built with a shining hilt, tight leather grip, and a shining silver blade.  
“If you want durable and deadly, then this is your friend. Forged by one of the most talented blacksmiths in the Eastern country, this blade is so sharp it can slice a brick in half in one strike. Doesn’t hurt that it’s a beauty on top of it all.”  
Sportacus whistled lowly.  
“It is beautiful. How much is it?” He asked.  
“A steal. Just 8,000 gold pieces.”  
Sportacus cringed.  
Vappy’s eyes widened and he nodded.  
“…which is highway robbery! I can see you’re a man who values a good deal, and I think I have a better match right here!” He said, whisking away the sword.  
More rummaging later, and Vappy emerged with a far sturdier, rougher looking blade of steel.  
“Now this isn’t as fancy as the first sword, but this will do the job while not being too heavy. I know, I know, that sounds like a lie, but believe me this is like swinging a piece of straw it’s so light. And with the serrated blade, it does nasty damage to your foes. And it can be yours for just 2,000 gold pieces!”  
Sportacus’s face fell as he heard the price.  
“Uh, well, that might be a little out of my budget also.” He said quietly.  
Vappy nodded and put the sword away.  
“Well friend, what IS in your budget? That can help me out, so I don’t just pull my whole inventory for you.”  
Sportacus pulled out a little leather pouch from his side and dumped out its contents onto the counter.

Fifty gold pieces clinked and clattered onto the countertop, a few spinning before falling over.

“This is all I have. Can I get anything worthwhile?” He asked hopefully.  
Vappy stared down at the coins, his expression fading fast. He looked up quickly, checking for a humorous expression on the stranger, one that might hint that this sad offering was only a weak joke or attempt to haggle.  
Once he realized that Sportacus was gravely serious, he bit his lip and sighed.  
“Well…this might get you a dagger. Half a dagger. A quarter of a dagger.” He said thoughtfully.  
Sportacus’s face fell.  
“Oh. A-Are you sure?” He asked.  
Vappy held up a finger, signaling for time. He tapped his chin, his eyes scanning his wares as he went through his mental inventory, looking for anything he could sell for a steep, _steep_ discount.  
Sportacus, feeling the pause, started to look around on his own. He looked over the beautiful displays of weaponry with their extravagant price tags, all too far outside of his current budget.  
His ears drooped as he kept looking, seeing nothing in his price range.  
He sighed, preparing to give up, until he spotted something in the far corner, almost invisible in the shadows.

He approached the corner slowly, as if it would rise up and strike him.  
He looked at the weapon admiringly as he drew close.  
The blade was a basic arming sword, built of steel that, underneath the spots of rust and dirt, shone in the bare beams of sunlight that glanced against it. The hilt was made of sturdy steel, darkened with age and rust, with a grip of old leather. A jewel, a handsome purple quartz, was embedded into the center of the hilt, and it still held a shine despite the dirt. Its pommel, shaped like a fish’s tail, was one that Sportacus had never seen before and, despite its age, looked gorgeous against the rest of the sword.  
Navigating the numerous cobwebs that coated the sword, he lifted it up and into the sunlight, finally noticing the engraving etched down the sword’s length.  
_Libertatis Iustitiae_  
“Wow…” He said in a hushed voice, turning the sword around in his hand.  
Vappy, looking about for his customer, finally noticed Sportacus standing in the corner. His face paling, he speed-walked to Sportacus’s side.  
“A-Ah! So, I see you’ve found my, uh, more interesting member of the collection!” He said nervously, clasping his hands together.  
Sportacus looked over curiously.  
“It’s quite a weapon. I see it hasn’t been cared for in some time, however. Why is it just sitting in the corner?” He asked.  
Vappy chuckled anxiously.  
“W-Well, that’s a great question! I, uh…” he said, sighing wearily. “I’ll be honest with you. That sword is quite nice but…well, let’s just say it has quite a history and is a little…temperamental.”  
Sportacus quirked an eyebrow.  
“A history? Temperamental? What do you mean?”  
“Well,” Vappy started. “this weapon is a bit on the old side. I don’t know who made it, but I do know that it’s been used. A lot. This weapon has gone through at least three owners, potentially more. And, well, let’s say that none of those three owners met particularly nice fates. Each time one bites the dust, this sword ends up here. It’s not a bad weapon, but with its history, I’ve been a bit reluctant to sell it. It’s kind of like it’s cursed.”

Sportacus looked back at the weapon, biting his lip as he looked it over again.  
“I mean, if you really want it, you can have it for almost nothing. I’ll charge you ten pieces of gold, and you can have it back if you change your mind. I just thought I’d warn you in advance.”  
Sportacus looked back at the displays of weapons, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he nodded.  
“I’ll take it.” He said.  
Vappy nodded and rushed back to the counter, hastily scribbling down a note of purchase. Sportacus scooped up the coins, leaving the ten gold pieces plus five more as tip.  
“Well, I wish you the best of luck with it. Really, I do. I’d hate to hear that you fell to the curse as well. You seem nice.” Vappy said, sliding the coins into a tiny wooden box.  
“I’m certain the curse is all hogwash.” Sportacus said, admiring the sword once more. “Thank you!”  
“Safe travels, Sportacus!” said Vappy, waving as the man left the shop.

The shop went silent once more.

“…I give him a day before he returns it.” He said to himself, before he started tidying up the counters and the displays.

\--

Sportacus emerged from the shop and back out into the streets, glancing about. He slid his new weapon into an old sheath, made of brown leather and hanging at his side.  
“ _I’ll have to buy some materials to remove the dirt and rust. Last thing I need is my sword falling apart._ ” He thought to himself as he walked down the road, walking past the slow-moving crowds that filled the streets.  
He looked over at the crowds, noticing their dour expressions and dragging feet.  
“ _Strange, I thought the kingdom of Meanswell was famed for its joyous atmosphere. I think that weapons seller was the only smile I saw all day._ ” He noted to himself as he walked past, making a beeline for the marketplace.

The marketplace, for the Kingdom of Meanswell, functioned as not just the social center of the kingdom, but as the literal center of the entire city. After walking past rows upon rows of squat buildings built of warm-colored brick, Sportacus entered the marketplace, a circular plaza populated by numerous stalls and shops. The crowds and clusters of people converged upon this destination, with streams of citizens furrowing through the lanes and streets in a proper flow of traffic. The air smelled of a messy mixture of spices, cooked meats, flowers, and expensive perfumes, assaulting Sportacus’s senses and leaving him near lightheaded with the sensory overload.  
Walking into the marketplace, despite the wonderful mix of smells, the whole place felt slightly off, which Sportacus soon pinpointed to the dull quiet that conflicted with his expectations of noise and cacophony. The people running the stalls seemed almost hollow, their eyes turned tiredly either to the street with weary gazes or to the ground. Conversations were kept short with one another, and the entire tempo of the thoroughfare felt uncomfortably slow. The walking of the passersby only barely qualified as walking and could better be described as shuffling.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned with concern as he watched, the whole scene unsettling.  
“What in the world is up with this place?” He asked himself, before turning towards the stall he was looking for.  
The stall was run by a haggard looking woman, her eyes framed by deep dark circles and her face drooping. Sportacus placed a few gold pieces on the counter and bought a small bag of potatoes and a bar of tallow soap.  
“Excuse me mam, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why does everyone seem so…glum? I was told that the Kingdom of Meanswell was a happy place, but no one seems very happy.” Asked Sportacus as he put away his purchase.  
“Not much reason to be happy anymore. So why smile?” She responded lowly, scooping the coins into a bag.  
“Well, there must at least be a reason why everyone is _unhappy_.” He said.  
The woman sighed tiredly and shuffled back to her wares.  
Sportacus bit his lip and reluctantly turned away, seeing that he wouldn’t get his answer there.

He walked over to the fountain in the middle of the plaza and sat at its edge, taking the time to people watch.  
He looked at the people’s expressions, searching for just one smile. One look that portrayed a level of even casual joy. Even just one upturned lip.  
Nothing. Not even one.  
And the lack of idle chatter made the lack of smiles even more unnerving.  
“This is all very strange.” Sportacus said to himself, as he plucked an apple out of his bag.  
He took a bite and chewed as he watched the crowds pass by, the quiet remaining heavy like a fog around him.  
As he ate, however, he slowed once he picked up another sound cutting through the listless noise of the crowd.

It was a low, droning noise that kept a steady rhythm, and pitched slightly upwards at the end of each beat.

Sportacus paused and listened.

…Was that _snoring_?

Sportacus furrowed his brow and listened closely, wondering if he was hearing things.  
He heard the noise once more.  
He definitely wasn’t hearing things, but who in the world was snoring?  
Sportacus looked around him, searching for the slumbering individual. Yet, despite the lack of energy from the surrounding people, nobody seemed asleep.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned, his eyebrows raising as he heard the snore once more, and he realized that it was coming from right next to him.  
He looked to his right but saw that no one stood or laid near him.  
He heard another snore, this time accompanied by a sputter.  
His pupils slowly drifted down to his sword.  
“ _…no, that would be silly. A sword isn’t even alive, much less can snore._ ” He thought to himself, chuckling.

He paused, a strange doubt crossing his mind.

Uneasily he unsheathed his new weapon, lifting it up to examine it. Slowly, he brought the hilt close to his ear.  
At first, nothing.  
But then…the snore, louder than before, along with the sound of a sputter and lips smacking.  
Sportacus yelped and accidentally dropped the sword, the weapon clattering to the ground.  
“Wha – hey! Watch it you oaf!” growled a voice, a voice that seemed to come from the sword.  
Sportacus’s eyes grew wide as he stared in disbelief at the sword, blinking repeatedly and rubbing his eyes.  
He stared at the sword warily, waiting to hear something else.  
Nothing.  
Nervously, Sportacus crouched down and plucked his sword off the ground. Sitting down shakily, Sportacus stared at the sword, his mouth feeling dry. He listened but couldn’t hear anything else from the weapon.  
Uneasily, he decided to try and say something.  
“Um…hello?” He said softly.  
He waited.  
There was no response.  
Sportacus could feel himself sweat as he sat back, sighing tiredly.  
“I must be hearing things. I need to get more sleep.” He mumbled to himself, running a hand down his face.  
“So, you’re my new wielder, huh? Have to say, I’m not impressed.”

Sportacus’s eyes shot wide open again. His pupils darted to the sword.  
“I mean, really, have you taken a good look at yourself lately? The mustache is not working on you. I suppose it could function as a sundial for your face but seems like a bad spot for that.” Continued the sword.  
“You’re talking.” Sportacus said bluntly.  
The sword paused.  
“Uh, yeah. Earth to genius. Are you still figuring that out or will I have to pretend to draw pictures for you to explain it?” It responded.  
Sportacus blinked and continued to stare.  
“You. Are talking.” He said again.  
“I see you’re a smart one. Great, never needed a wielder with brain cells anyways. Just try not to cleave your own head off with me, okay?”  
Sportacus, finally processing the situation, frowned at the weapon.  
“No need to be so rude. I’ve just never met a talking sword before.” He said.  
“And I’ve never met an elf with so little intelligence. Guess it’s a day of firsts then?”  
“Oh come on, be nice.”  
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” The sword replied.

Sportacus sighed exasperatedly and stood up, looking at the crowd once more.  
“Well, while I’m talking to you, maybe you know why the whole town is acting odd?” He asked.  
“What do I look like, a reference book? I’ve been stuck in that dusty corner for at least a decade, how should I know?”  
“I thought you might be, I don’t know, magic? Maybe you could figure out why everyone’s so sad?” Sportacus said.  
“No dice for you, elf boy. Even if I could figure it out, I don’t much care to figure it out. Everyone’s unhappy? Big deal, that’s my life in a nutshell.”  
“That’s sad.” Sportacus said sympathetically.  
“Thanks for that brilliant observation!”  
Sportacus frowned once more.  
“Come on, I’m trying to sympathize with you! Why do you insist upon being so nasty?” He asked.  
“I don’t know. I’m bored, and you’re a dummy.” Replied the sword.  
“I’m not a – oh, fine.” Sportacus said. “I’m wasting time. I need to find a pub or something.”  
“Drinking at two in the afternoon? Maybe you aren’t so bad!” quipped the sword.  
“I don’t drink. I need to find someone who might hire me for adventuring work.”  
“And you just lost whatever minute respect I might’ve had for you. It was a nice run though, as short as it was.” The sword said. “By the way, are you planning on cleaning me anytime soon? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of covered in dirt and I can’t clean myself.”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Once I talk with someone about getting some adventuring work, I’ll clean you up. I got a bar of soap and a potato for the job.”  
“What?! A potato?! You are _not_ putting some disgusting ground tumor on me!” protested the sword.  
Sportacus shook his head and sighed.  
“I have to! It’s for the rust! It’ll only take a few minutes, and it’ll just be soap cleaning from then on!”  
“Oh, right, say whatever you want, but I won’t let you bring a nasty vegetable anywhere near me! I don’t care if you claim it’s for cleaning or to stoke the fire, I want nothing to do with it!”  
“So you’d rather be rusty?”  
“No, I just want you to use your stupid pea-brain and think of something else to clean me with!” The sword snapped.  
Sportacus groaned and buried his face into his palm.

Off to the side, a pair of guards were watching the entire series of exchanges.  
“I told you Matthew, I think that guy is crazy. See? He’s had a whole conversation and argument with his sword.”  
The guard named Matthew nodded sagely.  
“I think you’re right, Jonas. Should we take him into custody?” He asked.  
Jonas scratched his bushy mustache and grunted in approval.  
“Alright then, let’s go.” Said Matthew, pulling his spear.

Sportacus had just lifted his face when he noticed the two guards approaching him, their spears at the ready.  
“Oh, hello! Um, is there a problem, sirs?” He said with a weak smile.  
“I’d say so. We’ll need you to come with us.” Said Jonas, who darted behind Sportacus and yanked his arms behind his back, forcing him to drop the talking sword.  
“H-Hey! W-Wait! What did I do??” Sportacus protested in shock.  
“Nothing much, sir. Just we don’t want people to get upset with you talking to your sword and all. It’s not normal as you might understand.” Matthew explained calmly.  
“B-But it talks! My sword talks, please believe me!” Sportacus said, looking pleadingly at his sword.  
Matthew looked over the sword, waiting patiently for a response.  
There was none.  
Sportacus blanched at the non-response.  
“I-It was! It was making fun of me and everything just a moment ago!” He said.  
“We believe you sir. We’d just like to talk to you up at the castle about it. Come with us.” Jonas said, pushing Sportacus ahead.

Matthew followed after Jonas and Sportacus dutifully, ushering away any glances from the less than interested onlookers.

\--

If the marketplace functioned as the center of the kingdom, the castle proper sat high above the rest of the kingdom, sitting at the tallest point at the top of a hill, with outlooks whose gazes spanned the entire city. The castle, built of a pale red brick, was a handsome structure that, while squat like the rest of the buildings, still stood impressively with its roofs hitting the clouds. Guards were dressed in silver mail and tunics with the crest of the city, golden music notes atop a field of pink, emblazoned upon their chests. They marched past dutifully, with Sportacus only having a moment to watch them march.  
“We’ll first take you the lord and lady of the castle. They’ll decide where you should go and calm down.” Explained Jonas as he nodded to the four guards at the door.  
The guards, working together, hung on the gigantic doors’ handles and yanked them backwards, the doors creaking and groaning as they were pulled open.  
Sportacus gazed upon the beauty of the castle’s interior, admiring the brickwork adorned with banners and the long red carpeting that covered the floor. The men pressed him forward, past even more guards that stood at attention, their weapons clutched in their hands.  
Jonas and Matthew continued pressing him forward until they reached a trio of thrones, with only two of them occupied. Stopping, they tugged on Sportacus’s arms to bring him to a kneeling position.  
  
The first throne was occupied by a woman who appeared to be in her mid-40’s. Sportacus was left a little stunned by her appearance, given her rather made-up face with pink lips and light blue eyeshadow, and her opulent silk dress with multiple layers and skirts that flared out her hips, making her take up more room than she probably needed. Much more distracting, however, was her tall bouffant of powder blue hair, which was completed with a rather modest in comparison circlet of silver. She was fluttering a pink fan in front of her face, her attention shifting down to Sportacus.  
“Lady Busybody, we apologize for disturbing you, but this man here was disrupting the peace in the market place.” Explained Matthew dutifully.  
Sportacus screwed up his nose, frowning at the guard’s claim.  
“I see. And what exactly was this man doing? Make it quick, we have other matters to attend to.” She said in a haughty voice.  
“Lady Busybody, we witnessed this man conversing with his sword for several minutes. He was talking to it and, by our ears, arguing with it.” Jonas said.  
“I see. A regular loon. Very well, lock him up until he comes to his senses.” Lady Busybody said, snapping her fingers.  
“W-Wait! Please, my lady, let me explain! My sword really _does_ talk! I-I can prove it to you!” Sportacus begged.  
“Dear, let him defend his case.” Said the man occupying the second throne, a portly man who appeared at least a decade older than her dressed in mustard yellow. He had finally looked away from the scroll he was reading to address Sportacus.  
“Very well. You may speak.” Lady Busybody said, waving away the guards.  
Jonas and Matthew stepped to the side as Sportacus walked forward, taking his sword from the guard.  
He drew closer to the throne, stopping once he saw the guards grow nervous. Biting his lip, Sportacus drew the sword up to his face.  
“Hello…sword. Won’t you say hi to the kind lord and lady of this magnificent castle?” He asked with a smile.  
Nothing.  
Sportacus’s smile faltered as he tried to ignore the expressions of the lord and lady.  
“Oh come now, don’t be shy! Just a quick hello! Nothing more!” He encouraged in a baby-talk like voice.  
Nothing.  
Sportacus began to sweat as he noticed Lady Busybody turning to look at one of her guards.  
“I’ll let you call me a dummy again! And I won’t get mad!” He offered.  
Still, nothing.  
Sportacus’s smile finally failed as he looked at the lord and lady, laughing nervously.  
“Guards, dungeon.” Said Lady Busybody, snapping her fingers.  
Sportacus’s face went white as the guards began to converge on him, their weapons at their side.  
“P-Please, I can explain…” Sportacus begged, holding his hands out.

“See, if you just hadn’t used that baby talk on me, I might’ve spoken up earlier.”  
The whole court froze and turned their attention to the source of the voice, which seemed to come from the sword.  
Sportacus blinked in shock.  
“W-Wait, was _that_ it? Why didn’t you speak up in the market place??” He asked.  
The sword started to laugh, eventually sighing in satisfaction before speaking once more.  
“Oh, I just wanted to see how much you’d sweat. Have to say, I got you going, didn’t I? Really thought you were about to be shipped to the loony bin. Hoo boy, that was great.”  
Sportacus blushed in anger and embarrassment, his face a beet red.  
“Blessed goddess, the sword really _can_ speak!” Lady Busybody gasped, fluttering her fan more rapidly.  
“Yes, I can speak, and I’m afraid my dummy wielder here isn’t crazy. He’s stupid, but not crazy.” Stated the sword.  
Sportacus frowned indignantly.  
“Oh my! Our apologies! Guards stand down!” The lord said quickly.  
The guards nodded and gave Sportacus an apologetic look before shuffling back to their positions.  
The lord then looked at Sportacus.  
“My apologies once more for the inconvenience! I do hope our guards didn’t rough you up too much.” The lord said.  
Jonas and Matthew looked nervously at each other as they waited for Sportacus’s answer.  
“No, they were fine, and I understand they were just doing their job. No hard feelings on my side.” Sportacus said calmly, even giving a small smile to the guards.  
Jonas and Matthew sighed sighs of relief.  
“You both may return to your posts.” Lady Busybody said, before the guards nodded and marched back out the doors.  
“I don’t believe I recognize you. Are you new to the kingdom?” asked the lord.  
“I am! How did you know that?” asked Sportacus.  
“Well, as lord of this kingdom, I pride myself upon knowing everyone in the kingdom at least to some degree personally! So, I definitely know when I’ve seen a face I’ve not seen before, and you’re one of them!” said the lord proudly, sitting up straight.  
“Well, you know people to a degree of success.” Noted Lady Busybody.  
The lord blushed.  
“Er, well, yes I do mess up from time to time, but I was right this time, wasn’t I?” He said.  
“You were, dear. Well done.” Said Lady Busybody, kissing the lord on the cheek.  
The lord’s face turned a bright red and he chuckled before clearing his throat.  
“Either way, welcome to the Kingdom of Meanswell! I am Lord Milford Meanswell, and this, well, is my wife Lady Bessie Busybody. But I see you’ve already been introduced to her.” He said.  
Sportacus gave a low bow.  
“An honor to meet you, sir and madam. I am Sportacus, and I hail from Alfenheim.” He said.  
“An elf! How exotic! We don’t see many elves around here!” exclaimed Lady Busybody.  
Sportacus worked hard to hide his grimace as the lord pulled at his collar nervously.  
“Um, well, what brings you to these parts, Sportacus?” asked Lord Meanswell.  
“Well, I’m here looking for adventuring work. I need work to save money to buy the armor and weapons I need before I return home. Do you have any work that I could assist you with, your highness?” asked Sportacus.

Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody looked at each other thoughtfully, with Lord Meanswell tapping his chin as they thought for several minutes.  
Eventually, Lord Meanswell shook his head slowly.  
“I’m sorry Sportacus, but I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.” He said.  
“Well, at least nothing you could help with. We are dealing with one particularly difficult issue, but it requires more of a jester than a warrior.” Lady Busybody said quietly.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned as he thought.  
“Well…may I at least hear it out? Perhaps I could assist in some way.” He said.  
“Perhaps.” Said Lord Meanswell in agreement. “Sportacus, I’m certain you have noticed that our beloved city is suffering from, well, a bit of the blues.”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Yes, I heard that the Kingdom of Meanswell is a joyous place, but I’ve barely seen one smile since I’ve arrived. I’ve been wondering what was wrong the whole time I’ve been here.” He said.  
“Indeed. This spell of sadness has held over the city for several weeks now, ever since we announced the cancellation of our beloved Dancing Festival.” Lord Meanswell said.  
“The Dancing Festival is an annual celebration held by the king and queen every single year to celebrate the kingdom’s prosperity. Its main highlight is a performance held by our niece, Princess Stephanie. This year, however, she has refused to dance, so we were forced to cancel the festivities.” Lady Busybody said sadly.  
“But why?”  
“My dear niece seems to have the same ailing sadness as the rest of the city. She refuses to leave her room and barely smiles anymore. We’ve tried everything and sent countless entertainers to cheer her up, but nothing works. We’re beginning to lose hope of helping her find happiness ever again.” Lord Meanswell said.  
“That _is_ terrible.” Sportacus agreed thoughtfully.  
He stood up tall.  
“Then what may I do to assist your niece? I’m willing to help however I can!” He said with a smile.  
“And we thank you for that, but we’re just not certain how you _could_ help.” Lady Busybody said with a sigh.

“I may have a suggestion for that!”  
The trio turned towards the sound, watching as a frizzle haired man in long, rose-colored robes rush down the hallway, a stuffed satchel bouncing at his hip.  
“Sorcerer Finnigan, you have a task for our warrior here?” asked Lord Meanswell.  
“Possibly!” said Finnigan excitedly. “For the last week I have been working on a happiness potion that should break our beloved princess from her long-lasting fugue!”  
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said Lord Meanswell cheerfully. “Where is it?”  
“That’s the issue, your highness. I am missing one ingredient that’s crucial for the potion’s completion.” Said Finnigan, pulling an empty vial from his bag. “I need a vial’s worth of water from the Blessed Spring to dissolve the ingredients, however my current supply has run dry. I would retrieve it on my own, but I believe it would be best for me to remain in the castle. I know the guards need me to continue my research on better magic defenses for their armor.”  
“Yes, that is a necessary task you should focus on. Perhaps we could send one of the guards to retrieve it for you?” suggested Lord Meanswell.  
“No, we can’t do that.” Said Lady Busybody. “With so many of our soldiers out investigating the mysterious happenings in the east, we can’t afford to let anymore soldiers abandon their posts.”  
“Good point.” Said Lord Meanswell thoughtfully, looking at Sportacus. “Then it looks like we’ll need you, Sportacus. I doubt that this task will properly utilize your skills, but we would be eternally grateful if you’d be willing to take on this task.”  
“I would be honored to retrieve the water!” Sportacus said eagerly.  
Lord Meanswell smiled and nodded.  
“Oh my! Thank you, Sportacus. Then we have no time waste.”

He clapped his hands twice, summoning two guards.

“Tell Ambrose at the stables to prepare a steed for Sportacus. I’m certain we have a horse to spare.” He said.  
“Right away, my lord.” Said one guard before the two hastily left.  
“The Blessed Spring is an hour’s journey to the west. It should be a relatively calm journey and task, there isn’t much in the ways of threats or dangers along the road, but you should still show a fair amount of caution. These are dangerous times we’re living through, after all. Finnigan will mark the location of the spring on your map.” Lord Meanswell explained, gesturing to the sorcerer.  
Finnigan stepped forward and handed Sportacus a map with the location marked in red ink.  
“And while I imagine you understand how pressing this matter is, please make haste. We can’t let Princess Stephanie suffer any longer with her sadness!” Lady Busybody said.  
“Understood, my lady!” said Sportacus, bowing. “I will only return once I retrieve the water!”  
“Good luck, Sportacus! We await your return!” said Lord Meanswell, nodding.

Re-sheathing his sword, Sportacus nodded at the guard by the doors as he exited the castle.  
“So your first mission is to get water. Nice, real glamorous! Real noble! Truly you’re flexing your credibility as a travelling hero!” snarked his sword.  
Sportacus pointedly ignored his weapon as he walked back towards the plaza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty here we go again on a fantasy adventure! Better buckle in because this is another long one, but hopefully you'll all enjoy it.
> 
> Updates will be a little slower just because of the size of this story and I want to try to make this as good as I can. So apologies for that.
> 
> Also thanks to otterlydeerlightful for letting me have them appear as the weapons shop owner in this story! 
> 
> Robbie will also get better, I promise. He won't be a butthead forever.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. The Spring

Much like the rest of the kingdom, the stable was quaint and rather homely. Built of plain, pine wood with a thatched hay roof, the rather simple stable held about a dozen horses of varying coat color and pattern. Surrounding the stable was a wide, circular paddock that another half dozen horses were running around in, nibbling at the spare tufts of grass and playing various games with one another, their manes waving in the breeze.  
A boy, no older than fifteen with pale red hair and freckles, sat slouched on a stool by the stables, a pitchfork standing by his side. He looked half asleep as he sat there, him not even noticing as Sportacus approached.  
Sportacus had to clear his throat to finally get the youth’s attention.  
“Oh! M-My apologies sir, you must be the one Lord Meanswell sent?” He asked.  
“I am. He told me you’d have a horse for me?” asked Sportacus.  
The boy nodded and looked over at the lines of horses. Gesturing for Sportacus to follow, he walked down the path between the stalls, quietly judging the horses that stood at the ready, nipping at Sportacus as he passed and snorting disinterestedly.  
“I think we have a horse that isn’t on reserve by one of the knights or nobles. It’s a mare, if you don’t mind.” The boy said.  
“Where I’m from, we believe that mares have the strongest, most hearty of spirits, while stallions have the wild souls. So, a mare will be perfect.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“Then I think Loftskip is a good match for you.” The boy said, tapping at the stall at the very end of the row.  
Sportacus approached the stall’s door and gasped, admiring the mare quietly.

The mare known as Loftskip had a beautiful, blue dun coat with a black mane that ran down the side of her neck, long yet smooth, showing off how well she was taken care of. She looked over the top of her stall door and peered at Sportacus, snorting quietly. She, after taking a moment to sniff the elf, bumped him with her nose, watching him expectantly.  
“She’s perfect.” Sportacus finally said, patting her nose.  
The boy nodded.  
“I’ll get her saddled up for you.” He offered.  
“No need. I’m no stranger to horses.” Sportacus said, clipping a lead to Loftskip’s bridle.  
After several minutes Sportacus had fully geared up Loftskip, who stood waiting impatiently for Sportacus to mount. He clambered over the top and, after checking to ensure his sword was secure, gave Loftskip a gentle nudge with his boot, signaling for her to start trotting. He gave a quick wave to the stable boy before the group officially started heading out.

Loftskip soon transitioned from her trot to a full-on gallop as they passed by field upon field of greenery and workers, all dressed for the warm sun and long days. A few lifted their heads as Sportacus went by, a few of the younger workers even waving as he passed. Sportacus smiled and waved back as they went.  
As he rode, his sword bounced against Sportacus’s side.  
“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch…” muttered the sword.  
“Uncomfortable?” asked Sportacus.  
“Understatement of the century.” Replied the sword.  
“Well, hang in there, sword, it’s only an hour’s journey to the spring.”  
“I have a name you know. I’m not just ‘sword’, and I refused to be called that.” Responded the sword.  
“Well you never introduced yourself, so I had no clue what to call you.” Said Sportacus matter-of-factly.  
“Fine smart guy, let’s get introductions out of the way. Not that it matters but might as well.”  
“You know mine already.” Said Sportacus.  
“I do, and it’s a stupid name.” retorted the sword.  
“I happen to like it.”  
“Right, because you’re a dummy.”  
“Alright, then what’s _your_ name?” asked Sportacus. “Since it’s so much better than mine.”  
“It is.” Said the sword. “It’s Robbie.”  
Sportacus furrowed his brow and screwed up his face.  
“Robbie? That’s a strange name for a sword.” He said.  
“Excuse me, it’s a perfectly _good_ name for a sword!” retorted Robbie.  
“It’s a fine name for a son, but a sword? Doesn’t really strike fear into the hearts of enemies.” Sportacus said with a small smirk.  
“Alright fine, what did you _expect_ my name to be, Mr. Master of Names?” asked Robbie.

Sportacus paused, thinking for a moment, before he shrugged.

“I don’t know, Windcleaver?” He suggested.  
“Wow. Nice imagination there, Sportadummy. Like _that_ would strike more fear into enemies’ hearts.”  
Sportacus frowned.  
“Well, I was kind of put on the spot.”  
“Well, if your imagination was better, you’d be able to come up with something good on the spot. My point proven.” Robbie responded.  
Sportacus sighed and shook his head.  
“Fine, you have a point.” He said.  
“I know I do.” Said Robbie, proud of himself.  
“I’ll just let you bump against my leg instead for the whole journey.”  
Robbie paused.  
“Fine, if I say your name wasn’t bad, will you shift me up so I don’t get a headache?”  
“Can swords _get_ headaches?”  
“This one does.”  
“Then sure.”  
“Fine, your name was…acceptable.” Robbie relented.  
Sportacus nodded and shifted Robbie upwards, letting the sword lay against the back of Loftskip.  
“Better?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie hmphed in response.  
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Said Sportacus as he nudged Loftskip, getting her to gallop again.

\--

After an hour of riding, the well-trodden dirt road transitioned into a less well-tread road, which then transitioned into a barely existent road, which told Sportacus that they were drawing close. Once the grass had nearly overtaken the path, Sportacus pulled back on Loftskip’s reigns, bringing her to a halt. He took the lead and tied her to a nearby tree, giving her a piece of apple as a treat before heading out. He followed the barely visible path down into a grove filled with jasmine plants, all blooming with their beautiful, yellow-white blossoms. With them, the air smelled sweet, and it brought a smile to Sportacus’s face.  
He remembered, for a moment, his neighbor’s garden. She had favored jasmine flowers, which made her yard smell lovely for the summertime.  
At least, until he and his brother trampled her yard a few too many times. He remembered how angry she was to see her carefully planted flowers trampled into bits.

The next day his brother was sent off to train under an elven knight.

Walking ahead, he pushed aside some hanging ivy that obscured a small, narrow path through a mountainside. He looked up at the tunnel, seeing how low the ceiling was and wondered for a moment if he’d taken a wrong turn along the way.  
Off to his side, he spotted something else obscured by ivy. He brushed the ivy away, revealing a sign.  
_Blessed Spring of the Goddess ahead  
_ “Guess this is the path then.” Sportacus said to himself, waiting for a quip from his ever-talkative companion.  
He heard nothing.  
Sportacus sighed in slight relief as he slid the sword behind him, holding it there with one hand as he began to walk through the tunnel. He sucked in his stomach, scooching along carefully the narrow path. He looked about the walls, seeing the moss that clung to the sides and above him. He continued along, noticing how the moss grew thicker as he went.  
“ _Right. Moss loves water. We must be getting close_.” Sportacus thought as he went.  
With another shove and an oomph, Sportacus emerged from the narrow tunnel and into an open area, tumbling onto his knees as he went.

Once he’d rubbed his knees, thinking about the potential bruises he may have, he finally took a good look at his surroundings, gaping at the sight.

When he’d heard that the spring was a “blessed” spring, he assumed that it’d be more…majestic.  
Instead, the sight he met with was much bleaker.  
The area surrounding the spring was absolutely carpeted with thick, sap green moss, with barely an inch visible underneath the thick growth. The moss continued forward and into the spring, which was filled to the brim with moss. On the wall, he could see what must’ve been a spout at one point, now clogged with a long, thick vine that also was covered in moss.  
“Well,” Sportacus said, placing his hands on his hips. “that’s quite a snag in our plans.”  
“Oh, really? You think so?” asked Robbie sarcastically.  
Sportacus frowned at Robbie and shook his head, walking towards the edge of the spring. He gazed into the water, cringing as he noticed how murky the water was. The entire spring was stained a nasty green color, the same color as strained peas, and huge clumps of moss floated through it.  
Sportacus picked up a clump of moss and stuck out his tongue in disgust as he watched the filthy water drip from the mass. He dropped it back into the spring, cringing once he noticed that some of the moss remained stuck to his hand.  
“Yeah, we’ll have to clean this before we get our water.” Sportacus said.  
“Or we could just get the water. They never specified that they want _clean_ water. They just want water from the spring, and this is water from the spring.”  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“No, we’re going to clean the spring. That’s the _right_ thing to do, and I refuse to take back scummy water to the lord and lady. This is for their niece, remember?”  
“Yeah, but the right things to do take so much work.” Robbie groaned.  
“You do remember that you don’t have to do anything, right? At least not until I reach that vine over there.” Sportacus said, gesturing to the spout.  
“True, but I’m still not looking forward to it.” Robbie said.

“Here then.” Sportacus sighed, laying Robbie over a foot from the water’s edge. “Just sit here and you won’t have to touch the moss. Is that okay?”  
“Hmph, I’ll manage.” Robbie noted.  
“Good, I’ll take that.” Sportacus said wearily as he slowly edged his way into the spring water, cringing at the sludgy feeling of the water around him.   
Once he’d finally situated himself in the water, which went up to his chest, he began to scoop and grab as many large clumps of moss that he could, laying the clumps onto the shore. He began to create a pile of messy, tangled pond scum and moss, the pile quickly accumulating into a pile about half a foot tall.  
“How’s the water?” asked Robbie, slightly teasingly. “Nice?”  
“It’s slimy, that’s for sure.” Muttered Sportacus as he scooped another armful of moss. “There’s so much moss in here, and it seems like more pops up every time I collected a bundle.”  
“Are you suggesting the spring is playing a prank on you?”  
“ _No_ ,” Sportacus said emphatically. “I’m just saying there’s a lot of moss, and don’t make a joke about that.”  
“What? I wasn’t going to say anything.” Robbie said innocently.  
“It’s just you – oh, never mind.” Said Sportacus tiredly, lifting another heavy clump of moss onto land.  
Sportacus paused and looked over his work, looking at the now three, foot tall piles of moss that laid drying on the shore.  
He glanced behind him and frowned, seeing the pond still as murky and moss-filled as before.  
“I really am not making any progress. What’s going on?” He said to himself, turning to look back at the piles of moss.  
The piles could’ve composed the entire pond’s space, yet there was still moss in the water.  
He stared at it thoughtfully, trying to think of another plan to clear out the scum and moss.

As he stared, the area suddenly grew darker, the shadow eclipsing Sportacus, the moss piles, and Robbie.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened, and he froze as he heard a low grumbling noise rumble behind him.  
He turned slowly, the blood draining from his face as he saw what lumbered above him.  
It was shaped like a man, with two arms and two legs, but that’s where the resemblance to a human ended. The being, the _creature_ , was nothing but a massive clump of moss, scum, and vines, which dripped water and slime into the spring at an alarming rate. Its face was absent of any facial features save for a single rock that functioned like a mono-eye in the middle of its face. It stood several times taller than Sportacus, the top of its head grazing against the top of the ceiling.  
It rumbled and growled lowly at Sportacus, croaking, and creaking and rattling.  
“O-Oh…” was all that Sportacus could utter.  
In a flash, the creature’s arm shot towards Sportacus and took hold of his tunic, lifting him upwards. It spun around and chucked Sportacus behind it, sending him flying and crashing against the back of the pool, his back colliding hard with the smooth stone surface.  
Sportacus gasped and sputtered as pain shot through his body and he momentarily sunk below the surface, his arms and legs flailing to make himself buoyant again.  
He only got a moment to collect himself before he was slammed into again, the monster’s mossy arm hammering down into his chest, sending him rocketing underwater and to the bottom of the spring.  
Once Sportacus slammed against the pool’s bottom, he gasped and gagged as he accidentally swallowed a mouthful of the slimy pool water. He opened his eyes but could see nothing in the murky water. He could, however, feel the weight on his chest grow heavier, and distantly he could hear the crackling noise of something growing over his torso, the concept filling him with horror.  
He pawed around feverishly, searching even as his mind grew fuzzy and his lungs began to burn. He dug around, feeling about. His hand brushed against something large and pointed.  
Gritting his teeth and mustering his quickly dwindling strength, he lifted the rock and plunged it down into the creature’s arm, severing part of its mossy skin and forcing it to release him.  
Free from the horrible weight upon his chest, Sportacus started to swim about, trying to pick the direction towards the surface. Before he could, however, he was once again grabbed, this time by the face. He screamed a muffled cry as he felt the vines cling behind his head and his body be lifted upwards. He heard water splashing underneath him and the air chilling his skin.  
He felt the air rush past as he was flung across the room, with him crashing and rolling across the moss-covered floor.

With his moment of reprieve, Sportacus coughed and spat up the mouthful of pond water he’d swallowed, choking and gagging as he laid on the floor. His hair fell onto his forehead as he forced himself up enough to roll onto his side, his chest aching and burning as he laid there.  
He stared with wide eyes at the moss creature which, for some reason, had ceased attacking him. Instead it simply stood there, croaking, and clicking, its one eye fixed upon him.  
His whole body was shaking. He knew he couldn’t give up, but with how fast the monster was he needed to think up a plan.  
Shakily he brought himself onto his knees, his spinning vision looking about the room. He coughed and sputtered as his sight finally found what he was looking for.  
Only a few feet away from him laid Robbie, the one chance he had at getting an upper hand on this beast.  
Carefully, he began to crawl and inch his way towards the sword, him hissing and cringing with each movement as his body protested.  
In the spring, the moss monster watched carefully, its croaking transitioning to hissing.  
Sportacus looked up warily at the monster, his stare fixed upon it until its hissing began to quiet. Only when the monster grew quiet did he continue to move.  
After several agonizing seconds, he was within arm’s reach of Robbie.  
The sword was strangely silent.  
“R-Robbie, please.” Sportacus asked, wincing as another burst of pain burned in his chest. His fingers dug through the moss-covered floor as he reached for the grip of the sword. His fingers fumbled and dug, the sword so close it was agony.  
Right as he drew close, however, the sword, on its own, moved just a few centimeters away, just out of reach.  
Sportacus stared at it with wide eyes and pale face.  
“R-Robbie, why -?” He asked.  
Before Robbie could offer an answer, Sportacus felt something cling to his ankle.

Sportacus gasped as he was dragged away and dangled upside down, him turned to look the monster straight in the eye.  
The monster groaned, hissed, and cocked its head to the side.  
Sportacus stared at the monster pleadingly.  
“P-Please, I’m sorry, but y-you’re polluting the spring. I need the water – “He started.  
Before he could finish, the monster roared and swung above its head before throwing him back into the spring.  
Sportacus could only flail before the monster threw both its arms forward, slamming Sportacus back underwater. It pulled away, allowing Sportacus to rise to the surface, before it once again thrust Sportacus back below the water.  
It repeatedly did this, continuing the cycle of punching Sportacus under the water and allowing him to resurface, only to slam him underwater again.  
After several times of doing this, Sportacus could only lay limply once he emerged from the water again, his eyes barely holding open.  
The monster grabbed and lifted Sportacus up. It pinned him to the land with its arm, the moss growing around his left shoulder and arm.  
Sportacus looked blearily at the monster, barely protesting as he watched the monster raise its other arm, the moss and vines shifting into a dull point.  
He struggled, using what energy he had to try and pull at the moss, but to no avail.  
He stared up at the creature.  
“ _This is it._ ” He thought to himself bleakly. “ _I-I’m going to die, and there’s nothing I can do._ ”  
The monster creaked and groaned, lifting its other arm higher.  
Sportacus closed his eyes, holding back the tears.  
“ _Íþró…I’m so sorry…_ ” He thought.

Amidst the creaking and groaning, Sportacus heard something else in the noise.

A scraping sound.

Then, he felt something clatter into his hand.

Opening one eye, he looked over anxiously, his other eye opening once he realized what it was.

Robbie, his sword, was laying in his hand.

Eyes opening wide, Sportacus’s attention snapped back to the moss monster, which stared at the sword.  
Gritting his teeth and summoning his strength, Sportacus screamed his best battle cry as he swung the sword in front of him, cleaving off the creature’s left hand, which fell into a pile of harmless moss.  
The monster shrieked and flailed, the vines on its left arm wiggling and swinging through the air desperately.  
Sportacus dug himself out of the pile of moss and, trembling, brought himself to his feet. His balance was weak, and he staggered terribly, but he turned a defiant gaze to the monster nonetheless.  
Grunting, he lifted his sword and pointed the blade at the monster.  
“Come on then. We aren’t finished yet.” He spat.  
The monster roared and surged forward, streams of moss and vines shooting from its body.  
Sportacus held the blade up and sliced through the oncoming stream of plant life, holding it at an angle as he tromped his way forward, fighting his way through the moss that tried to snag at his feet.  
The monster shrieked and wailed, and swung its other arm towards Sportacus.  
It connected, sending Sportacus tumbling to the side. With a groan, however, he stood once more to his feet. The monster struck again but, this time, Sportacus was ready. With another cry, he cleaved the monster’s other arm clean off.  
The monster, realizing the changing battle, began to back up against the wall, its one eye fixed upon Sportacus as its head looked fearfully around the room.  
Sportacus glared at it and trudged forward, sludging through the moss and muck to the spring’s edge.  
The monster stared at him expectantly, its body rippling with ever shifting moss and crawling vines.  
Sucking in a breath, Sportacus took several steps back before charging forward, leaping at the monster with a scream, Robbie lifted above his head.

With another cry, he swung the blade downwards, slicing into the monster’s head.

With his weight and inertia, he dragged the sword through the monster, straight down its middle. He heard the sounds of vines snapping and water spurting, a few streams of murky brown water splattering into his face. He dug the blade deeper, holding strong until he finally fell back into the spring, Robbie falling with him.  
He quickly paddled to bring himself upright, and fished Robbie back to his side. He stared up at the monster, waiting with baited breath to see what it’d do.  
With the gash down its middle, the monster ceased moving. It instead let out a pitiful groan, its body bubbling and bursting like hot tar, its solidity failing as its form grew lumpier with each passing second.  
As Sportacus watched, he could hear something creak as well as a long, squishing sound. It was with horror he realized that the creature’s body was falling towards him.  
He attempted to paddle away but was unable to avoid the massive clump of moss that collapsed atop him, tearing away with it the vine attached to it like a tail that plugged the spout.

A sharp pop echoed throughout the room and, with it, a stream of cold, sparkling water cascaded into the room, breaking the small spout that once controlled it.

Gallons upon gallons of water roared and flowed through the hole and flooded the room, the moss and stagnant green water displaced and swallowed by the clean, fresh water. The remnants of the moss monster were swept towards the outer wall, bumping against the stony surface and clinging to the side. As the water swept and formed waves that brushed away moss clumps and scum, Sportacus resurfaced and was gently pulled over to another wall.  
Sportacus regained consciousness as he heard something clink against the wall. Sitting up and spitting out the water he swallowed, he looked over and saw Robbie laying in a shallow part of the water.  
He reached over and pulled Robbie over, checking him for any chinks or dents. Much to his surprise, he appeared completely unharmed by the harrowing adventure.  
As he sat back upright, Sportacus adjusted to best accommodate his growing aches and pains. Except, said growing aches and pains seemed to already be ebbing away.  
Looking down at his chest (which, no surprise, was a mess of purple and red bruises already), he stared in awe as the bruises slowly but surely vanished with each splash of water, until his chest merely ached but was completely free of marks and bruises.  
At this point, the stream of water had begun to calm down, the roar of flowing water growing quieter with each passing second. Sportacus looked around at the clumps of moss, watching as each pile grew drier and dissolved in the pools of sparkling water.

Getting up, Sportacus limped over to the main spring area, crouching down and pulling out the small vial from a pocket, secretly feeling thankful that the vial hadn’t shattered at some point during the battle.  
Uncorking it, he dipped the vial into the clear water, watching the ripples sparkle and shine. He pulled up the vial and squinted as it twinkled the same as the rest of the spring. Recorking it, he slipped the vial back into his pocket and dug out a spare hair tie. He quickly pulled his hair back into his usual ponytail.  
“Well hey, on the bright side you won’t need to take a bath now. With all that scum water and moss, I figured you’d be a green bean by the end of everything.” Robbie noted.  
Sportacus frowned down at the sword.  
“Oh what now? Can’t take a joke?” asked Robbie.  
“I saw you move when I tried to grab you earlier. What was that for? It nearly got me _killed_.” Sportacus noted annoyedly.  
Robbie’s response was slightly delayed, as if he was thinking.  
“Hey, no need for dramatics, I knew you’d be fine! Besides, it wasn’t the right time.”  
“Right time?! That thing had me pinned! It was about to smash me into pieces!”  
“But I did show up in the end, didn’t I?” Robbie said.  
“ _I was nearly killed_.” Sportacus nearly yelled.  
“You weren’t though, right? That’s what matters, now let’s head out.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus’s mouth opened and he could feel a torrent of angry words boil down in his throat. He cringed and gritted his teeth before sighing and shaking his head.

“Fine. Let’s just get back to Castle Meanswell. We can’t keep the princess waiting.” He said tiredly, sheathing Robbie, and walking back towards the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely sure how I feel about this chapter, but hopefully it was at least fun for you guys. There may be edits to it later on as characterization is solidified and so forth, but they should be minimal.
> 
> The next update won't be for a while, but no worries I'll still be working on this.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. The Princess of Meanswell

Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody had their noses deep into a pile of maps and scrolls when they were startled by the doors slamming open.

Their startled state soon transitioned to relief as they recognized the warrior walking through their doors, decidedly soaked and weary looking, but there nonetheless.  
They stood tall as Sportacus walked towards them, a slight limp in his step, and knelt before them, bowing and pulling out the full vial.  
“Your highnesses, I have returned with the vial of spring water as promised.” Sportacus said, keeping his head down.  
Lord Meanswell stepped away from the table of papers and scrolls and smiled widely, crossing over towards Sportacus.  
“Oh my, how wonderful! I’m so glad you’ve returned and, even more so, I’m glad you were able to retrieve the spring water! You really have done the kingdom a great service, I hope you understand that. I hope the mission was as relaxed as I said?”  
Sportacus winced and looked up, a still damp strand of hair falling onto his face.  
Lord Meanswell’s smile faded.  
“Er, was it?” He asked quietly.  
“There was a small incident at the spring. A sort of moss…creature that taken residence there and clogged the spring. I was able to dispatch it however, so the spring is clean and clear once more.” Sportacus explained, holding back the urge to pin his frustrations to his weapon.  
“Well, I’m glad then that the monster is gone, and that you’re all right! My apologies, I really thought this mission would be a peaceful one.”  
“It’s perfectly fine, my lord. All that matters is the princess’s potion can be completed.” Sportacus said with a small smile.  
“Oh! That’s right! Guards, please retrieve Finnigan at once!” Lord Meanswell said, clapping twice.

Two guards bowed and hastily strode out of the throne room, walking past a set of double doors.

Minutes later the guards returned, the sorcerer accompanying them. The frazzled looking sorcerer stared with surprise and shock at the beleaguered Sportacus.  
“Goodness me! What happened to you?” He asked, earning a look from Lord Meanswell.  
“Nothing too terrible. Just a run in with a moss monster.” Sportacus said.  
“Moss monster? Now that is new. Did you happen to save a sample of the moss from it? I’d love to study it and see how it formed.” Asked Finnigan.  
“Finnigan, please, the potion?” asked Lady Busybody.  
Finnigan blushed in embarrassment.  
“R-Right, my apologies my lady.” He said.  
Sportacus handed the sorcerer the vial.  
“And my apologies, but the moss burned away before I could grab a sample. Otherwise I’d’ve said yes.” He said.  
Finnigan smiled and nodded.  
“Well, it’s the thought that counts.” He said, pulling out the large, circular glass bottle that was filled with a pale orange powder.  
Uncorking the vial, he poured its entire contents into the large bottle and slipped the now empty vial into his pocket. He sealed the larger bottle and, vigorously, shook it up and down, side to side, the solution sloshing noisily inside.  
After several seconds of energetic shaking, Finnigan held the solution up to the sunlight and watched it, his eyes squinted and staring in a scrutinizing fashion.  
The anticipation was so great that even Lord Meanswell, Lady Busybody, and Sportacus stared in a similar fashion.  
“In a minute, we should see a rather spectacular reaction from the solution. That’s how we’ll know it’s ready.” Said Finnigan in a hushed voice.  
“Alright, but why are we whispering now?” asked Sportacus.  
Finnigan gave a silly grin and tapped the side of his nose.  
“Well, we don’t want to scare the potion, do we? We must be quiet.” He said, winking.  
Sportacus’s face turned a little pink and he nodded.

At first, nothing seemed to happen.

Then, quite suddenly, the throne room shook as the solution inside of the bottle exploded in a wild display of color and light, surprisingly not breaking the bottle in the process. The two royals and Sportacus were nearly knocked over by the violent reaction.

The bottle continued to shake and tremble for several seconds before finally settling down, the solution resting into a pale blue mixture. Finnigan lowered it and swirled it once, nodding in approval.  
“There we are. One happiness potion. If this doesn’t cheer up the princess, I’m not sure what will.” Finnigan said.  
“Oh, how wonderful! Finnigan, please deliver that potion to Stephanie at once!” Lord Meanswell said cheerily.  
“Um, dear, perhaps it’d be best if Finnigan _didn’t_ administer the potion to Stephanie.” Lady Busybody said, tapping Lord Meanswell’s shoulder.  
Lord Meanswell’s eyebrows raised.  
“O-Oh? You think so?”  
Finnigan cringed.  
“I must agree with Lady Busybody, my lord. When she was a child I was the one who’d give her her necessary medicines. I think she might become suspicious if she sees me walk into her room with a bottle of something like this.” He said.  
Lord Meanswell bit his lip and nodded.  
“I see, then we’ll need someone else to give Stephanie the potion.” He said.  
“Lord Meanswell,” said Sportacus, stepping forward. “I’d be more than happy to deliver the medicine to the princess, your highness.”  
Lord Meanswell smiled.  
“Well, thank you once again, Sportacus. That would mean a lot to all of us.” He said.  
Finnigan handed the potion to Sportacus, smiling at him.  
“Good luck, Sportacus, you’ll need it. Believe me, she’s a stubborn one when it comes to medicine.” He said warningly.  
“I’m certain I’ll manage but thank you Finnigan.” Said Sportacus, giving the sorcerer a smile.  
Finnigan’s cheeks turned a slight pink as he stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck.  
“E-Er, anyways, I believe I should return to my research for the time.” He said.  
“That would be a good idea. We’ll inform you of the potion’s success once the princess has taken it.” Lady Busybody said.

Finnigan quickly strode away, his expression slightly flustered, as Lord Meanswell snapped his fingers.  
“Guards, please escort Sportacus to the princess’s chambers. I’m certain she will be there.” He said.  
Sportacus began to walk behind the two guards towards a back door.  
“And Sportacus?”  
Sportacus stopped and looked behind him.  
“Good luck.” Said both Lady Busybody and Lord Meanswell.  
“Thank you.” He said with a small smile, before he followed the guards through the doorway.

\--

The princess’s room sat at the end of a long hallway decorated with oil portraits and long hanging curtains, all that same rose pink with the portraits featuring what Sportacus assumed were various members of the royal family. One portrait featured Lord Meanswell, standing and holding the hand of Lady Busybody, who looked decidedly less made up and more modest in her portrait. Another featured, Sportacus assumed, the reigning family. The king, a man with sandy brown hair and a small mustache, stood next to the queen, a tall and thin woman with dark brown almost black hair.  Together they stood behind a chair where the princess sat, a young girl with hair pink as a peony and a smile that beamed.  
The smile was so bright that Sportacus couldn’t help but smile seeing it. If the princess in person was like her portrait, then he could understand why the loss of her smile would so devastate the entire kingdom.  
The guards stopped in front of a pair of doors, standing tall and reaching for the handle. The first guard carefully and quietly creaked the door open. After a moment he peeked inside.  
“Princess Stephanie? You have a visitor here to see you.” Said the guard quietly.  
A pause.  
“Is it Finnigan? I don’t want to see him.” Said a voice just as quietly.  
“No your highness, it’s a new visitor. He’s a warrior from Alfenheim. Your uncle wishes for you to meet him.”  
Another pause, this one much lengthier.  
“Send him in.”

The guard nodded at Sportacus and opened the door wider. Sportacus, keeping the potion just out of sight, finally stepped in.  
Much like the rest of the castle, the princess’s room was decorated from roof to ceiling in various shades of pink. The room was a large one, as Sportacus expected, featuring a balcony towards the far-right corner sectioned off by another pair of double doors fitted with colorful stained glass, said glass reflected rainbows onto the stone floor. Toys and stuffed animals littered the floor, including a wooden castle with several dolls lying about inside. Several old pairs of dancing shoes with heavily beaten ribbons sat in the corner closest to the door.  
The bed was set right under a large window that looked out towards the Eastern border of the country, the fields and farms visible from it. And sitting right by the window could only be the princess, dressed in a pretty pink dress with puffed sleeves and a dark magenta ribbon tied around her waist. Her back was turned to the door, and she hadn’t even reacted to Sportacus walking in.  
Sportacus, gently, cleared his throat, hoping to gain the princess’s attention.  
“Good evening, your highness. My name is Sportacus.” He said, bowing properly.  
Princess Stephanie glanced back for only a second, her gaze tired and distracted. Just as quickly as she’d looked back her gaze had returned to the window.  
“Are you training to be another of my guards? You’d be the seventh this month.” She said.  
Sportacus looked up, standing straight once more.  
“Oh, no I’m not here as your guard.” He said.  
“Then are you a new knight? I know the newly christened knights are supposed to meet me.”  
“Not quite.” Sportacus said, giving a small smile. “I’m afraid I already serve another kingdom.”  
“Then why are you here? Why did uncle send you?” asked Stephanie, her voice growing sterner.  
Sportacus felt himself begin to sweat. He glanced down at the bottle in his hand, realizing that he couldn’t tell the princess that he’d been sent to give her what was effectively medicine.  
“I’m uh…” Sportacus started, his mouth growing dry.  
He glanced down briefly at Robbie, wondering if his sword was silently judging him.  
“I was sent here to keep you company. I’m your new…playmate?” Sportacus finally said.

Princess Stephanie paused, then finally turned around to look at Sportacus.  
“You are?” She asked. “That’s why my uncle sent you?”  
Sportacus gave an uneasy smile.  
“Well, he said you seemed a little down, so he wanted someone to spend time with you. So, um, is there any games you’d like to play?” He asked.  
Princess Stephanie didn’t answer immediately as she looked him over, scrutinizing this stranger.  
Sportacus, as subtly as he could, slipped the potion into his bag.  
“Do you like dolls? We could play with those.” He suggested.  
Princess Stephanie stopped, then slowly nodded.  
“Sure. All my dolls are in the castle.” She said, pointing to the toy castle and slipping off her bed.  
Sportacus smiled, sighing in relief internally.  
“Sounds wonderful! Which doll do you want to play with?” He asked.  
“I suppose I’ll play with the princess doll.” She said softly, picking up the doll that looked much like her.  
“Very well, then I’ll play with…” Sportacus started, looking over the many dolls that sat in the heap.  
“You can be the king.” Stephanie said, holding up a doll that looked like the real king.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“Well, okay. I can be the king.” Sportacus said, taking the king doll.  
“You start.” Said Stephanie.  
“Um, okay.” Sportacus said, unsure of what to do. He never had any cousins or sisters, so playing with dolls was a new one for him.

He cleared his throat.

“My daughter, tonight is the night of the great ball. We’ll need to get this throne room ready for all the important guests! Are you excited for tonight?” He asked, dropping his voice to try and sound as regal as possible.  
Princess Stephanie propped up her doll in the throne room with Sportacus’s.  
“I suppose so. It does seem like a lot of work though. The throne room is very big.” She said.  
“Well, it’s only a lot of work if we work separately! But together this will be a breeze!” Sportacus said with a grin, humming a little tune as he made the doll tap around the room, brushing the doll’s arm against the walls to show him “cleaning” the throne room.  
Sportacus looked over hopefully, his smile wavering.  
Stephanie remained as glum-faced as before.  
His eyes drifted over towards the pile of stuffed animals. Holding up the doll with one hand, he reached into the pile of stuffed animals and pulled out a stuffed dragon toy.  
“I must say, together this cleaning is going quite quickly! I think we’ll be – oh no, what’s that?!” Sportacus said, making whooshing sounds as he “flew” the dragon up and onto the balcony adjacent to the throne room.  
“I’m here to eat your gold! I also like to ruin parties so you’re in for a terrible day!” Sportacus said for the dragon, his voice going deep and growly.  
Stephanie seemed unmoved, though the corner of her mouth upturned for a split second.  
“Daughter, I need your help! This dragon seems very mighty and I can’t defeat him by myself!” Sportacus spoke for the king, lifting the doll back up.  
“But what can I do? That’s a dragon, and I’m just a princess. I’m not strong.” Said Stephanie.  
“Well, perhaps this dragon isn’t defeated by strength! Perhaps, it’s defeated by _spirit_!” Sportacus suggested with a smile.

Stephanie gave him an unamused look.

“Spirit?” She asked.  
“Yes! Your inner power, your spirit! With your boundless optimism we can defeat this dragon! How about it, can you do it?” asked Sportacus hopefully.  
Stephanie looked at him with a flat expression, her eyes lowering as Sportacus continued to wait with his overly hopeful smile. Her eyes darted down to Sportacus’s bag briefly before her gaze returned to him. She set down her doll and sighed.  
“Please, Sportacus, just drop the act. I know why you’re here.” She said.  
Sportacus’s smile vanished.  
“P-Princess Stephanie?” He asked.  
“I saw you slip a potion back into your bag. It’s one of Finnigan’s, isn’t it?” She asked, not accusingly but her voice still held a level of hurt.  
Sportacus’s eyes darted to his bag, his face paling. His gaze snapped back to Stephanie.  
“Um…” He started, unsure of how to answer.  
Stephanie sighed.  
“I wish uncle would stop doing this. He sends so many potions to me, I want nothing to do with them anymore. They don’t help.” She said, standing up and returning to her bed.

Sportacus watched sadly as Stephanie left, her crawling back onto her bed and returning to the window. He felt his heart grow heavy; clearly, he had pushed her way too hard and her history with potions was a lot less smooth as he’d hoped.  
He set aside the dolls and stood back up. Slowly, he walked over towards the bed and, cautiously, sat at its edge.  
“I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize they’d made you take so many potions, and I’m sorry that I tried to deceive you. I’m sorry, your highness.” He said softly.  
Stephanie sighed again.  
“It’s fine, you didn’t know. You didn’t know, and you were just following orders. I can’t hold that against you.” She replied, not turning around.  
Sportacus nodded shallowly, clasping his hands together in his lap and twiddling his thumbs.  
He glanced around the room, his gaze going from the walls, to his bag that held the potion, back to the walls, to Robbie, to the walls once more. All the while he was thinking. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do next.  
“Is…Is everything okay, your highness?” He asked, all the while feeling the dumbness of the question.  
A pause lingered.  
“No. Nothing’s been okay.” She finally answered quietly.  
“Would you like to talk about it?” suggested Sportacus.

Another lengthy pause.

“Or, if not, I will respect that. I understand if – “Sportacus started.  
“My parents, Sportacus.” Stephanie finally said. “A little over a month ago, they left here.”  
“They did? Why?” asked Sportacus.  
“To lead half of our army.” Stephanie said, sounding more tired and sad as she continued. “They had received a distressed message from a village in the east, so they set out with their soldiers that way.”  
“Ah, your uncle had mentioned something about that earlier.” He noted.  
Stephanie’s shoulders slumped.  
“They told everyone that it was just another bandit raid. That’s what everyone believed, it made sense to them. Multiple bandit camps are situated in the east, so of course. Everyone accepted that explanation without question.” Stephanie said, balling a clump of her dress fabric in her fist. “N-No one questioned why they’d take half their army to deal with _bandits_.”  
“Well, maybe there was a huge bandit raid? If there’s multiple camps hundreds of bandits could lay siege at once.” Sportacus suggested weakly.  
Stephanie didn’t budge, her head lowering.  
“The night before they left, I overheard them talking. They were talking about the trouble and…and they sounded so _scared_. I’ve _never_ heard my parents sound so frightened. I soon learned why.” She said.  
She turned to look back at Sportacus, her eyes glistening with tears. Sportacus’s heart shattered.  
“The Darkness, it’s here. It’s appeared in the east, and my parents went to fight it. They told me they’d be back in a week. Over a month later and…and _nothing_. I-I wouldn’t be so worried except I overheard Finnigan talking about The Darkness and he said how terribly strong it is and how no one has survived a fight with even the essence and…and…” She started, her voice growing choked up and strained.  
Sportacus was thankful that Stephanie had kept her head down as the blood drained from his face and his heart thumped in his ears. He gulped down a ragged breath as he watched Stephanie fight and cringe. She pressed her palms into her eyes and sucked in sharp breaths, exhaling audibly.  
“…I’m sorry. I’m a mess. You…You shouldn’t be seeing me like this. Please, excuse me.” Stephanie said, moving towards the edge of the bed.

“Your highness,” Sportacus said, getting up and blocking Stephanie’s path. “please, if I may.”  
Stephanie looked up at Sportacus in surprise, her eyes widening.  
Sportacus, remembering himself, stood tall and proper.  
“Princess Stephanie, have you talked to your uncle about your feelings?” He asked.  
Stephanie’s gaze drifted down, her expression growing guilty.  
“Uncle is very busy right now. He’s had leadership of the entire kingdom thrust upon him and Lady Bessie ever since my parents…disappeared. I-I couldn’t bother him, not with the whole kingdom needing us at our best.”  
She sighed.  
“I can feel it, _everyone_ already knows something is severely wrong, but we can’t tell them anything. If we do, well, there’ll be widespread panic. If they see me looking so sad, they’ll begin to suspect. But…but I also can’t be with them right now.”  
She hugged herself tightly.  
“I’m trying so hard to be strong, like my mom and dad would want, but…but it’s so hard. Smiling hurts too much, so instead I…I stay here. But that _still_ upset the people! I-I have to be strong, and not distract my uncle from his duties, but…but…”  
Sportacus’s ears drooped as he watched Stephanie visibly struggle, her teeth clenching as he sunk her chin into her chest. Her breathing was sharp and shallow.  
“Your highness.” Sportacus said quietly, crouching to sit at her level. “Please, your highness.”  
Stephanie looked up at him with a wobbling expression.  
Sportacus gave her a small smile.  
“I may not know your father personally, but I can say, first, that he’d be very proud of how brave you’ve been through all of this. I…I can only imagine how terrifying it must be at times.”  
Stephanie sniffled.  
“But, I also imagine that he and your mother know that being brave also can mean knowing when to be open with others about your pain. Your uncle may be busy, but he is your uncle still. He’s family, and that means he’s worried about you and wants to help you.” He continued.  
Tears began to build in Stephanie’s eyes.  
“You’ve been as brave as any knight or warrior, if not braver. You’ve held strong for so long for the sake of your uncle and the kingdom. But, I think, it’s time for you to think about and care for yourself. And that means being open about what you’re feeling. Does that sound okay?” Sportacus asked quietly.

Stephanie, at first, only stood there. The tears continued to build in her eyes and her sniffling grew louder.

She maintained composure for only a few moments more.

Then, she finally broke.

She collapsed into a fit of sobs and tears, wailing loudly and choking messily, her face growing red and puffy. She buried her face into her hands and fell to her knees, her body shaking and trembling.

Sportacus watched quietly but sadly. He knew that the princess needed this, but it didn’t make it any less painful to watch.  
“I’m sorry, your highness.” He said in a near whisper.  
Much to Sportacus’s surprise, Princess Stephanie looked up, eyes watery and her face a mess. Shaking her head, she hugged him, burying her face in his tunic.  
At first, Sportacus didn’t react beyond freezing. He was left unsure of what to do. On one hand, it’d be rude not to return the hug, especially since the princess seemed to need comforting. On the other hand, she was a _princess_ , thus there was a protocol to be adhered to, and Sportacus the warrior definitely didn’t have the social clout to even shake her hand.  
Yet, eventually, the former won out, and Sportacus gave her a gentle hug back.  
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay…” He said quietly.  
The doors opened behind him, with Sportacus looking back. The two guards standing watch stood there in shock, watching with concern as the princess sobbed.  
“Princess Stephanie?” asked one guard, stepping forward. “Is everything alright?”  
Sportacus glanced down at her once again.  
“She’ll be okay. She just needs some time, if that’s okay.” He said.  
The one guard looked at the other guard, who nodded.  
The two guards then closed the doors once more, allowing Sportacus to refocus on Stephanie, who continued to cry, albeit less violently than she had before.

\--

It was almost half an hour later before Stephanie had finally begun to calm down. Her crying eventually faded to a series of random hiccupping and sniffles. After she had seemingly settled down enough, Sportacus carefully and cautiously brought her back to her bed. Near instantly, Princess Stephanie fell asleep, curled up in a little ball. Sportacus smiled and nodded before walking out of the room, talking briefly with the guards.  
“I don’t know if I can request anything, but perhaps ensure the princess has a glass of milk and something to eat when she wakes up. She might be hungry after all her crying.” He said.  
The guard nodded.  
“I will see what the kitchen can do.” He said.  
With everything settled, Sportacus started back towards the throne room, walking with one of the two guards protecting Stephanie’s room.  
As he walked, and the need to comfort the princess passed, Sportacus’s set aside feelings resurfaced. He could feel his heart sunk deep and his face pale once more, his mind going crazy over the princess’s comments.  
Specifically, her comments about The Darkness.  
His face was white as he thought about her comment, sweat building on his brow.  
“Well, I’m glad that our fetch quest went so well. Travel over an hour to collect water from a stream guarded by a monster, just to learn that all she needed was a chat! Hah! Typical, royalty making a simple task so much more difficult.” Snarked Robbie, chuckling quietly.  
Sportacus remained quiet.  
“What Sportadork, not finding me funny? Come on, even you and your noodle brain have to admit that’s a little funny.” Robbie asked.  
Sportacus chewed his lip as the sweat built on his brow, his eyes fixed on the floor.  
“…Sportacow? Are you trying to phase into the carpet or something?” asked Robbie less jokingly.  
Sportacus looked over at his sword and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“I…I just need a moment, okay? Please.” He said.  
“Alright, fine, but you better look alive. There’s the throne room, and I know you’ve got a head full of hammers, but I’m sure even you know looking pale like that would upset Lord Tubbington and Lady Blueberry.” Robbie quipped.  
A guard frowned and prodded at the sheath with the back of his spear.  
“Excuse me sir, but reign in your weapon. One more foul comment about our lord and lady and we _will_ melt him down for scrap.” He said.  
“Right, sorry.” Sportacus said, looking down at Robbie. “Please, Robbie, just don’t get us killed? Can you reign it in for just a little bit?”  
“Sure, but at least admit I was funny.”   
“No.”  
“Then no dice, but since I don’t want to be melted down, I’ll just keep after you then instead.”  
“Sure, fine, do what you need.” Sportacus said wearily as he stood up tall and wiped the sweat from his face. He forced himself to look composed before they entered the throne room.

As soon as Sportacus stepped foot into the throne room, Lord Meanswell, Lady Busybody, and Finnigan all turned around, stopping what Sportacus could only assume was a conversation about something important.  
“Sportacus!” said Lord Meanswell, jumping from the throne and rushing to meet him. “Please, tell me that you were successful and, more importantly, that the potion was successful!”  
Sportacus cringed and looked down.  
“Well…no, the potion wasn’t successful. She didn’t actually take it.” He said.  
“W-What?! Well, why not? Couldn’t you convince her to take it?”  
“No, that wasn’t the problem. I didn’t give her the potion, my lord. She didn’t need it.” Sportacus said.  
Lord Meanswell blinked.  
“Do you mean her sadness is cured?” He asked.  
“No, but I know why she’s sad.” Sportacus said. “My lord, have you really _spoken_ to your niece after her parents went missing?”  
Lord Meanswell’s expression softened as he looked down sadly.  
“Goodness, I don’t believe so. I-I thought I had, but with all the work maintaining the kingdom…oh my, how _long_ has it been since we’ve really talked?” He said, growing more horrified as he thought.  
“If you’ll permit me, my lord,” Sportacus said sadly. “I believe you need to spend more time with your niece. She…well, I can’t tell you what she’s feeling, but she’s truly missing them and worrying about their safety.”  
“Oh, the poor dear.” Lady Busybody said quietly as she joined her husband. “I was hoping she wouldn’t worry! After all, her parents are just dealing with some bandits. They’re troublesome louses but nothing too dangerous. There are just many of them.”  
“She…She said they aren’t facing bandits.” Sportacus said, his heart beating faster.  
“Not bandits? But that’s what they told us!” said Lord Meanswell.  
“If they aren’t facing bandits, what _are_ they fighting??” asked Lady Busybody.

Sportacus sucked in a sharp breath and sighed before responding.

“Princess Stephanie said they mentioned… _The Darkness_.” He said.

Instantly, Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody’s faces went stark white, with the lord looking as if he was about to faint, his balance wobbling.  
“T-T-The Darkness?? N-No, that can’t be! It…It can’t be.” He muttered, patting his forehead and stepping backwards.  
Lady Busybody went to her husband’s side to support him. She looked back at Sportacus with a dire expression.  
“Sportacus, are you absolutely _sure_ Princess Stephanie said ‘the darkness’? She couldn’t have meant something else?” She asked.  
Sportacus looked sadly at the lady.  
“I wish I could tell you that, but that’s what she said.” He said. “And, I believe we need to believe her. My people prophesized that The Darkness would emerge at this time, and with the lengthy disappearance of the kingdom’s army and the king and queen, it seems that it has truly returned.”  
Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody looked at each other in terror, Lady Busybody’s hand raising to cover her mouth in horror.  
“O-O-Oh my, oh, oh, oh my.” Lord Meanswell stuttered as he sat on the floor, looking faint. “T-This…This is terrible news…”  
“Yes, this is far worse than we could’ve imagined. Bandits, we can handle, but The Darkness is…is a league far above anything we’ve prepared for.” Lady Busybody said.  
Lord Meanswell patted off sweat from his brow, dampening his handkerchief as he stared at the floor. His attention snapped to Finnigan, who was standing there looking very anxious.  
“Finnigan, please, tell me you have an idea. Something, _anything_ , just a plan to fight The Darkness. We can’t just sit here and do nothing, but we also having nothing in our arsenal to do any reasonable damage to it either.”  
Finnigan looked at him nervously, his fingers tapping against his chin rhythmically. He chewed on his lip and stared at the wall.  
Finally, minutes lately, he snapped his fingers.  
“Excuse me, my lord.” He said, rushing off hastily back towards his study.

The trio watched as the sorcerer slammed the doors behind him, the three looking at each other in bewilderment.

Minutes passed, long minutes, before the sorcerer finally emerged, a gigantic and ancient-looking scroll held like a baby in his arms.  
The sorcerer, despite the situation, walked in with a hopeful expression.  
“I-I thought it’d be here somewhere, and here it is! Right here, the answer to our dilemma!” He said, laying the scroll carefully on the ground and unrolling it.  
The three walked over and sat on the floor with the sorcerer, looking over the faded writings on the parchment.  
“Finnigan, what is this?” asked Lady Busybody.  
“This, my lady, is a parchment left behind by the king of the Kingdom of Meanswell, almost one thousand years ago.” He responded. “Within this scroll details the story of our Blessed Goddess of Light, and her monumental battle with the God of All-Consuming Darkness.”

Sportacus nodded slowly. He was familiar with this story.  
He remembered how, as a child, he was told by his mother about how, long ago, the Blessed Goddess created the world. Her creations were good and kind, and the world was at peace. However, the God of All-Consuming Darkness wanted to shape this new world as well, thus used his powers to divert some of the Goddess’s creations to his whims, turning their hearts dark. The Goddess hated this and would try to quash every bit of darkness she saw, but the dark god would simply corrupt another of her creations. Fed up, she attacked the God of All-Consuming Darkness, and their battle shook the earth. In the end, the Goddess emerged victorious, and she shattered the God of All-Consuming Darkness. Rather than rid her lands of evil, however, she only scattered small pockets of it across the entire land, which would emerge at random within the hearts of her good and kind creations. She, inadvertently, made it far harder to keep her creations happy and at peace, and it was deemed her one and only folly.  
These pieces were, at some point prophesized, to come together and reform the God of All-Consuming Darkness. And once he reformed, if he wasn’t stopped, the Goddess would fall, and her creations would be destroyed.  
It seemed like there was so much time to prepare, yet there they were, on the footsteps of oblivion with barely a plan in sight. It made Sportacus feel a little sick.

“Does the scroll contain a plan to _stop_ The Darkness?” asked Lord Meanswell nervously.  
Finnigan nodded and pointed towards the end of the scroll.  
“According to this last section, before the Goddess ascended into the heavens, she left behind five pieces of armor imbued with her essence. This armor can only be worn by a warrior with a pure heart and kind mind. Together, the armor will allow this warrior to defeat The Darkness and deter the end of our world for another thousand years.” He said.  
“Armor?” asked Lady Busybody.  
“Yes, armor. And according to this scroll, one piece of this armor rests within this castle. The rest were gifted to the various kingdoms around the country to keep it safe from theft and misuse. At least two of the pieces lay in the Kingdom of Spoilero, and another two pieces are with the mages at Solstice Peak.”  
Sportacus, for a moment, thought he heard his sword gag at the mention of the mages.  
“W-Well, where _is_ this armor?” asked Lord Meanswell impatiently.  
“Just a moment.” Said Finnigan, standing to his feet.  
Outstretching his arms, he began to murmur words unfamiliar to everyone’s ears, words in a long dead language. As he did, his hands began to glow and flicker with a pale pink light, the creases in the brick glowing the same color.  
“It should be about…about…” Finnigan muttered, turning about the room, his eyes closed as he mentally searched through the walls.

He froze as he faced the wall behind the thrones.

“ _There._ ” He said, before he made a spinning motion with his hands and clapped them together.

A deafening boom rattled the throne room as bricks cracked and creaked, crumbling into a messy pile on the stone floor.  
The four hastily made their way to the newly opened hole in the wall. Finnigan snapped his fingers and summoned an illumination spell. The group coughed as they cautiously entered the hidden room.  
Finnigan squinted, looking in the low light through the room. He stopped and pointed ahead of him.  
A pillar stood in the middle of the room, old and carved of stone. Atop this pillar lay what looked like a knight’s chest plate, however its state didn’t stir any hope in any of the group’s hearts.  
As one might imagine something would look after almost a thousand years of decay, the chest plate was completely caked in rust, soot, and even mold. The straps for the sides were frayed and discolored, and the metal itself looked weakened and thin.  
Lord Meanswell slowly turned and stared at Finnigan in disbelief.  
“…Is this some kind of joke, Finnigan.” He asked in a dangerously calm tone.  
Finnigan, sweating, heaved the rusted chest plate into his arms.  
“I-I’m certain that this chest plate is far more than its appearance, my lord. This _has_ to be the Blessed Chest Plate, b-but it’s…it’s old. The parchment said it’d be glowing and beautiful…”  
“Perhaps it needs to be in the hands of the right warrior?” Lady Busybody suggested. “After all, what better way to prevent it from being stolen than have it look decrepit and broken unless in the right hands?”  
Lord Meanswell looked down thoughtfully and nodded.  
“That would make sense. But oh my, finding the right warrior might takes months on its own! How will we find the warrior with the pure heart? There are _hundreds_ of warriors in the country at least!”  
Finnigan looked away thoughtfully before, casually, pointing at Sportacus.  
“Well, no better time to start then now, right? Maybe Sportacus should try it on?” He said.  
Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody looked at each other, then at Sportacus.  
Sportacus, nervously, stepped back, pointing at himself.  
“Y-You think _I_ might be the armor’s owner?” He asked.  
“Well we aren’t sure dear, but you have been wonderfully kind and generous with your time. I don’t see why you _wouldn’t_ be the armor’s owner. It’s worth a shot at least.”  
“I’m not sure…” He said uncomfortably, his arms crossing over his chest.  
“Please Sportacus, just a quick try? After all, if it doesn’t fit, then we’ll keep looking.” Lord Meanswell asked hopefully.  
Looking at the lord and lady, Sportacus bit his lip. After a moment, he sighed and nodded.  
“Alright, I’ll try it on.”

Finnigan then walked over with the chest plate in hand. He helped Sportacus slip on the oversized and rusted piece of armor, him slipping the straps so it fit him as snuggly as possible. Even then, however, the chest plate hung limply over his chest.

Finnigan then stepped back, and the trio watched Sportacus with anticipation.

At first, nothing happened. Sportacus stood there, growing increasingly awkward as he could feel the three’s stares burrowing through him.

Just as he was about to ask for help removing the armor, the room was flooded with a blinding, glorious golden light.  
A low chime sound rung throughout the entire castle, echoing in Sportacus’s ears. He could feel the chest plate grow warmer, almost unbearably hot, the metal shrinking and conforming to his body.  
As the light finally faded away and the group blinked away the spots in their vision, the three stared in awe at the sight of the armor. No longer was it rusted and dirty, now it shone in its full beauty, a vision of pale gold that glittered even in the dim lighting. It fit Sportacus perfectly, as if it were made specifically for him only.  
Sportacus looked down at himself in disbelief, his eyes fixed upon his new armor.  
“It’s true, the prophecy is true…” Lord Meanswell said to himself near silently.  
“You are our hero, Sportacus.” Said Lady Busybody, her voice slightly high with excitement.  
Sportacus, meanwhile, looked at himself uneasily. An uncomfortable expression crossed his face as he tugged at his armor, testing its fit.  
“I…am?” He asked quietly.  
He was startled out of his thoughts by Finnigan clasping his hands on his arms and grinning at him widely.  
“You are! You are the fabled hero, Sportacus! And goodness did you arrive just when we needed you!” He said excitedly.  
Sportacus looked at him with a weak half-smile.  
“I…I suppose I did?” He said with wavering enthusiasm.  
“And since you are the country’s hero, there’s no time to lose. Come, let’s return to the throne room.” Said Lord Meanswell, walking out of the hidden room.

The group reconvened in the throne room, with Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody sitting in their chosen thrones, retaining the regal air they held when Sportacus was first thrust into their presence as an accused mad man.  
“Now, as Finnigan’s scroll said, two other armor pieces lie in the Kingdom of Spoilero. Luckily our kingdoms have a longstanding alliance, so the journey should be peaceful save for a few rougher patches. However, it is a long journey. It’ll take you at least several days by horseback to reach the kingdom’s borders.”  
Sportacus nodded as Finnigan circled the kingdom on his map.  
“We’ll ensure that you’re given the supplies you need for your journey before you leave. As much as we hate to see you leave, we advise that you leave immediately as time is of the essence.” Said Lady Busybody, waving her fan. “And, as an additional thank you gift, please feel free to keep Loftskip for your travels. She is a reliable mare who should serve you well.”  
Sportacus blinked in disbelief. He smiled and bowed.  
“T-Thank you, Lady Busybody!”  
“And please, Sportacus, if you should run into any trouble or if you see any more activity from The Darkness, let us know as soon as possible. I would recommend pigeon mail. There are plenty of friendly pigeons in the kingdom whom I’m sure you could persuade to bring us a letter or two.” Said Lord Meanswell.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Thank you. Thank you for everything, my lord and lady.”  
“No, thank _you_ , Sportacus. You have done our kingdom a great service. We hope to see you soon, with all the armor on your person!” Lady Busybody said.

With that, Sportacus turned and followed the guards away from the throne room and out of the castle.

\--

The lord’s generosity had gone far beyond what Sportacus had expected. He had indeed been gifted with enough food and supplies to last him the entire trip to the Kingdom of Spoilero, and possibly the return trip, but the food he was gifted with was far nicer than Sportacus was used to. Freshly baked bread, cured meats, salted fishes, various fruits and vegetables, and even a small jar of honey were just a few selections amidst the bounty he’d been gifted with. For the wares he was gifted with supplies ranging from rudimentary cooking supplies to the essentials needed for a tent.  
To Sportacus’s amusement, it seemed for this journey, he’d be travelling like royalty.  
As he hauled his goods with him down the roads of the kingdom, he looked about the warm colored buildings, his pace casual but steady.  
He continued to walk but paused as he reached a shop.

The weapons shop from earlier. It was still open.

His eyes darted down to his sword, resting by his hip. Surprisingly, Robbie was fairly quiet at the moment. Perhaps he had taken his advice to heart and decided to hold his tongue in front of the royalty.  
He thought for a moment, an idea crossing his mind.  
Would he though?  
On one hand, Robbie hadn’t exactly endeared himself over the day, with nothing but belittling comments and insults being hurled at him. He also, lest he forget, played a part in nearly getting him _killed_ during their little encounter with the moss monster.  
For most people, that was plenty reason to simply return the sword and be done with him. He could, after all, simply turn around and request a different sword from Lord Meanswell. He was certain he could get a different, less mouthy weapon from the lord.  
Yet, Sportacus couldn’t help but feel reluctant.  
He thought about how long Robbie had implied he’d sat there. Something like a decade, that’s what the shop owner said.  
A decade with little to no one to talk to, no one to have company with.

Sportacus sighed. He couldn’t.

He gave one last look at the weapons shop and walked away.

As he exited the kingdom, however, Robbie then decided to pipe up.  
“Big mistake, buddy. I saw how you looked at the shop, you should’ve returned me when you had a chance. You must have a smaller brain than I had assumed and, trust me, I assumed yours was _pretty_ small.”  
Sportacus sighed sharply through his nose.  
He was already wondering if he’d regret his decision later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we got a mission for Sportacus to pursue, just 15,000 words later. This is gonna be good lol.
> 
> Hope you all are enjoying this story and thank you for reading!


	4. The Crossed Line

It was a rule for travelers that setting out too late in the day was a poor idea, given that the night was the realm of thieves and murderers. Thus, Sportacus only rode out towards the outer farms before pitching a tent in the empty fields of one farmer, with his permission of course. With the lord’s gift of a bed roll and tent, Sportacus, surprisingly, had a restful night’s sleep. After such a long day, he was finally relaxed.

Of course, this relaxed feeling didn’t last long as the next day dawned.

Near immediately after finishing breakfast and packing up, Sportacus set back out on Loftskip, turning their direction towards the west. According to his map and calculations, if they kept a constant pace and minimized breaks, they’d reach the Spoilero border in about a week.   
Of course, that’s _if_ they kept a constant pace.  
The inclusion of a factor like Robbie wasn’t one that Sportacus had considered.  
“Ouch! Ouch! Sportadummy! Remember?? Don’t lay me on the side of this cow!” Robbie snipped, bouncing violently against Loftskip’s flank.  
“Oh, right, sorry about that. Here you go.” Sportacus said quickly, gently pushing Robbie up and onto Loftskip’s back.  
“Better?”  
“A bit.” Robbie groused.  
“Good.” Sportacus said, before snapping the reigns and setting Loftskip off again.  
“Ow! Ow! Sportacow, if you go too fast, it’s just as bad!” Robbie complained once more.  
“Robbie we can’t slow down. If I slow down, we’ll never make it to the Spoilero kingdom!” Sportacus retorted.  
“Geez, I didn’t say you had to get this cow to creep! Just don’t full gallop, got it?” Robbie said.  
Sportacus sighed and nodded, giving Loftskip a quick tug back on the reigns.  
Loftskip snorted and shook her head, slowing back down to a breezier walk.  
“ _If we keep this pace it’ll take us a little longer, but still shouldn’t be more than a week. This is fine, this is okay._ ” Sportacus thought, holding back his weariness as he kept Loftskip on the path.

However, a slower pace was only the first in what would prove to be a challenging day for Sportacus.

He travelled across paths both partly paved and dirt, though mostly dirt, past meadows, farms, and small groves of trees. The songbirds chirped in the tree branches, some flying overhead and swooping low through the air. Chipmunks and squirrels skittered past, disturbed by the loud clapping of Loftskip’s hooves. The travelling and trotting kicked up clouds of dirt and dust, which left Sportacus feeling distinctly uncomfortable and messy.  
He decided he’d address that once he reached his resting spot for the night.  
For the time being, after a few hours of riding, Sportacus decided to take a short break by an energetic and sparkling river he found a few minutes off the trail. A short, rocky beach banked the river on each side, with pieces of wood scrap and broken stone littering the shores. Sportacus had Robbie rest on the beach while he led Loftskip to the riverside to drink.  
As Loftskip took long, greedy gulps of fresh, cold river water, Sportacus did the same. He filled up his canteen with the clean, freezing water before he leaned forward towards the river, cupping up handfuls of water to drink.  
He sipped slowly, enjoying the frigid water’s taste and coolness, not minding how his teeth stung at the icy edges of the water’s taste. He smiled and sighed contently. He leaned forward and grabbed more handfuls of water and slurped those down.  
He paused for a moment, enjoying the chill air, before he took another handful of water.  
Before he could enjoy this next mouthful of water, however, he suddenly felt his balance shift decidedly forward. He threw his hands out and flailed, trying to prevent his inevitable tumble to no avail. With a gasp, he plunged face first into the frigid water, his whole body getting quickly submerged.  
He flailed and fought for a moment before he finally emerged. He sputtered and spitted out streams of water as he finally got himself buoyant. His teeth chattered as the chill air mixed with the freezing water quickly chilled his body, leaving him decidedly cold.  
To not much of his surprise, right where he’d been kneeling by the river sat Robbie, who’d moved at least a foot from his resting spot.  
“W-What was that for?!” Sportacus sputtered.  
“What was what for?” asked Robbie innocently.  
“You know! You pushed me in!” said Sportacus annoyedly as he started to paddle back towards the shore.  
“Oh, that. Well, you looked like you might want a bath, so I decided to give you a helpful shove.” Robbie said.  
“And _what_ part of me looked like I wanted a bath exactly?” Sportacus asked, squeezing the water out of his hair.  
“Pretty much all of it. You were absolutely _caked_ in dust and it was disgusting.” Robbie said simply.  
Sportacus bit his lip and walked away, ignoring his weapon as he kept squeezing out excess water from his tunic and boots.

The rest of that trip, needless to say, was one spent damp.

It was what felt like many, many, _long_ hours later that Sportacus finally decided to rest for the night.

He had spotted a small, covered spot several feet off the main road, surrounded by short rocks with a small patch of dirt and mixed grass in its center. There was a dead tree nearby that he could hitch Loftskip to for the night, far enough from the road to not be spooked by any late-night traffic but close enough to his camp in case someone tried to steal her. He tied Loftskip to the tree, removing her saddle and feeding her a carrot from his supply. With her settled for the night, Sportacus focused on setting up his own camp.  
He set up a small circle of stones with the proper firewood, lighting it with a snap of his fingers. He may not be especially talented at magic, but he could at least light a fire.  
With the fire roaring and blazing, Sportacus finally took a moment to set Robbie to the side so he could focus on preparing himself dinner. Pulling out a piece of beef and some vegetables, he used his pan to quickly roast the ingredients to create a simple but filling dish. He sat himself back against a rock and began to chow down.  
“What, no dinner for me?” asked Robbie with an audible pout.  
“No. Even if you could eat, you’ve been a bit difficult all day.” Said Sportacus, giving his weapon a look.  
“Geez, I was just kidding around. Lighten up for a moment, won’t you?” Robbie commented.  
Sportacus closed his eyes and sighed again. As he got up, he left Robbie at the camp as he walked to a nearby stream and washed his plate. When he returned, he looked over his supplies and decided to eschew his tent for the evening. While it was nippy, the stars were out and Sportacus wasn’t _too_ uncomfortable in the cool, evening breeze. He figured a camp out under the stars wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him.  
Unrolling his bed roll, Sportacus laid on it and stared up at the sky.

He found the north star resting by the Lion’s Tooth constellation, as usual. There was the Winged Bear, his favorite constellation from his childhood.  
And off to the right was the Twin Brothers, Íþro’s favorite constellation.  
Sportacus’s smile faded.  
He thought for about home, for just a minute.  
At this time, the soldiers would’ve been lighting some of the lanterns.  
Would’ve.  
Sportacus sighed and slowly removed the blessed chestplate.  
“Enough of that, I should sleep.” He told himself as he slipped into his bed roll.  
As he adjusted his pillow, he looked up and over at Robbie.  
“Good night, Robbie.” He said.  
Robbie didn’t answer. He must’ve already gone to sleep.  
Sportacus yawned and laid his head against his pillow and, slowly, closed his eyes.

…

“Have you ever thought about how big space _really_ is?”  
Robbie’s voice broke Sportacus out of whatever shallow sleep he’d achieved. He frowned and sat up, looking at the weapon.  
“What?” He asked.  
“I asked if you ever thought about how big space is.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus looked down, crooking his mouth thoughtfully.  
“Um, I don’t believe so. Why?”  
A pause.  
“It’s big, isn’t it? Infinitely big, in fact. Isn’t that fascinating?” said Robbie.  
“I…suppose?” said Sportacus.  
“And we have no clue what’s out there. There could be a million dragons circling a sun only a few miles away from us, and we aren’t even _close_ to being prepared.”  
“Robbie, is there a point to his conversation?” Sportacus asked.  
“A point? I guess not.” Robbie said.  
“Okay, then maybe we should sleep?” Sportacus suggested.  
“A good idea! Good night.” Robbie said, before he snored loudly.  
Sportacus screwed his face at his weapon before he finally decided to ignore him. He shrugged and laid back down, sighing and closing his eyes once more.

…

“Or maybe it’s the _ocean_ we should be worried about, because that is also pretty huge…”  
Sportacus sat back up and looked over, his eyes squinted.  
“Nah, space has to be worse.”  
“What are you talking about?” Sportacus asked.  
“Nothing much. Just debating with myself.” Robbie said innocently.  
“Well, maybe you could do it more quietly? I would like to sleep.”  
“Hmph, I could try, but I do prefer to talk these things out aloud.” Robbie groused.  
“I’m sure you’ll manage okay. Good night.” Sportacus mumbled tiredly before he laid back down.  
“Night.” Said Robbie.

…

“ _Hmm hmm, the clover meets the honeybee, too tum, and they sing for thee, hum doo…_ ”  
Sportacus groaned and looked back over.  
“What? You didn’t say I couldn’t sing.” Robbie said.  
“Fine, I didn’t, but _why_ are you singing?” asked Sportacus.  
“I have trouble sleeping. Maybe singing helps.” Robbie said.  
“Does it? Really?”  
“Probably not.”  
“Look,” Sportacus finally said, sliding out of bed and rubbing his eyes. “if you can’t sleep, then maybe you can be useful by keeping watch.”  
“And you really trust me with that?” asked Robbie as Sportacus lifted him out of his sheath.  
Sportacus hesitated and chewed on his lip, choosing not to answer as he stuck Robbie in the dirt across the fire.  
“I’m waiting for an answer.”  
“I don’t know.” Said Sportacus flatly.  
“Hmm, maybe you aren’t a noodle brain after all.” Robbie mused.  
“Good night. Tell me if you see anything suspicious.” Sportacus said, turning and walking back to his bed roll.  
He had barely slipped into the roll before he heard a whistle.  
“I saw something suspicious.” Said Robbie.  
“What?”  
“Or maybe it was a squirrel, I don’t know.”  
“Good _night_.” Sportacus grumbled, turning away and forcing his eyes shut.

\--

Was it mean? Maybe.

Was it uncalled for? Oh, definitely.

Was it endearing him to his new wielder?

Absolutely _not_ , and that’s just what Robbie wanted.

It didn’t hurt that it was also pretty fun. Robbie had always favored pranks and fooling around as a child, and he’d never lost that love even as he grew up. As a kid, he thought it broke up the monotony of everyday life, and it was something to bond with his brother over.  
As an adult, it took on a new purpose: it kept Robbie sane.

After all, spending as much time as he did in a form with little to no autonomy, he had to make his own fun. Lucky for him, messing with people didn’t require a mobile body with limbs.  
And judging from Sportacus’s grumbling and his restlessness, he might’ve been a more effective pest _without_ the advantage of limbs.  
Robbie smirked to himself, feeling utterly satisfied with how the days had been going.  
“ _That fool Sportadork is going to regret keeping me. He thinks I was bad today? I’ll just make it worse tomorrow. Hmm, but how will I do that?_ ” He thought to himself.  
Perhaps he could poke Loftskip’s legs as they rode tomorrow to give the mare a slight startle.  
Or maybe he could swing himself up enough to slice away a strap on one of the bags. That would force Sportacus to stop for a while to pick up his supplies and repair the bag.  
After all, there was no end to Robbie’s mischievous creativity.  
“ _All good options, but perhaps I’ll see what I feel like tomorrow._ ” Robbie thought, yawning. “ _I’ll gage how Sportaloon is doing and adjust accordingly. He’ll hate me for sure, and I’ll be on my way soon enough._ ”

Robbie kept thinking about that last part.  
Yes, he would be on his way again.  
Back to square one.  
But this time, he’d be _safe_.  
Safe from the inevitable that happened every time he parted ways with his wielder.  
He sighed, feeling hopeful.  
“ _Time for some shut eye. I need my beauty sleep too._ ” He thought as he let his eyes flutter shut.  
His mind grew hazy, and soon he was drifting off to the beauty of dreamland.

…

At least he would’ve, but something nagged at the back of his mind.  
He grumbled and forced himself to keep his eyes closed, but his brain was still working and wide awake.  
He eventually opened his eyes and looked over. He turned to look at Sportacus, now fast asleep.  
He felt a pang of guilt over falling asleep.  
He’d been asked to keep watch, hadn’t he?  
“Well it’s _his_ fault for asking me to keep watch. I never promised I could stay awake the whole time. Besides, he’s probably just doing it to keep me away, like he should. There’s nothing dangerous out here.” Robbie said to himself, hmphing and closing his eyes once more.

Something rustled in the distance, startling Robbie awake once more.

He jumped and looked about, feeling his heartbeat in his ears.  
While he couldn’t see anything, he definitely knew he heard something.  
He gulped down a breath, feeling that pang echo in his mind again.  
“ _Well, I suppose I could keep watch for a little while. It benefits us both I suppose._ ” He thought, sighing.

He looked about, keeping a watch on the opening to the field.  
A rabbit bounced through the grasses.  
An owl hooted in the distance.  
No more rustling.  
Robbie still kept his eyes peeled for anything.

An hour later, however, his eyes finally began to drift shut.  
Eventually, his weariness won out, and he fell into a deep sleep.

\--

It was something like a low, guttural sound that finally woke Robbie up.

Robbie slowly opened his eyes and looked about, frowning as he searched for the odd, inhuman noise. Twisting the sword around, he looked about, seeing nothing in the dimly lit area.  
“ _What was that?_ ” He thought to himself, feeling too apprehensive to ignore it and fall asleep again.  
The noise rose again, this time accompanied by a series of clicking and groans. He heard a low noise underlying the sound; a low, ethereally empty hum that filled the air and hurt Robbie’s ears.  
His eyes drifted down to the ground, and he froze at the sight.  
A streak of pitch black goo had broken through the grass, the ooze hissing and seething as it swallowed the grasses and small plants around it. Each plant it touched instantly withered and yellowed, crumbling into bits and pieces until finally disintegrating into dust.  
“Oh gods…” He said to himself, before he stopped once more.  
There were the sounds again, and it was coming to his right.  
Twisting himself around more, he gaped as he finally spotted the source of the noise.

What it was was near indescribable, but whatever it was, it was _monstrous_.  
Much like the moss monster from earlier, the… _thing_ appeared humanoid, but only in the vaguest sense. The thing’s “skin” bubbled and shifted, composed of the same tar-like substance Robbie had seen on the ground. Its appendages dripped the substance, creating pools of acidic gunk that killed and disintegrated anything it touched. The thing was hunched over something, its “head” turned down to the ground as it raised its “arm” towards what it was looking.  
The realization hit Robbie like a brick.  
_Sportacus_.  
His voice was thick and stuck in his throat as Robbie watched in terror. He forced himself to bounce a bit forward, his gaze fixed upon the monster as it pulled at the bed roll, singing its edges and leaving marks along its fabric.  
“S…Sp…” Robbie tried to sputter, but the horror he felt kept him near mute.  
He came to a stop and stared as the monster finally reached towards Sportacus, its “hand” drifting mere inches above his arm.  
Robbie remembered the grass from earlier.  
“SPORTACUS WAKE UP!” He shouted as loud as he could, finally finding his voice.

At the sound of Robbie’s cry, Sportacus sat straight up, his eyes shooting open. However, he didn’t wake up in time to avoid the monster’s touch, which grazed across the skin of his bicep.  
As soon as the monster’s hand touched his skin, Sportacus screamed as it burned and sizzled against his skin. The pain was like grabbing a hot poker, but a hundred times more painful. Immediately, Sportacus rolled backwards and onto his feet, one hand clutching the spot where the monster’s hand had touched. He clenched his teeth and stared in shock at the being, who swiveled its head right back towards Sportacus and lurched forward.  
Looking around, Sportacus reached towards the smoldering fire and grabbed a piece of barely burning wood. Clutching it like a club, he swung it back and forth in front of him, hoping to deter the monster.  
The monster tilted its head at the torch, gurgling and hissing as it stared. After a moment, it stepped forward once more, its body reaching and swallowing the first quarter of the torch, extinguishing the flames and threatening to grab Sportacus’s hand.  
Sportacus flinched and leapt away, his gaze turning about as he searched for another weapon.  
Robbie, as if on cue, hopped over and leapt into Sportacus’s open hand.  
Sportacus gripped the handle and prepared to swing at the monster, only to be caught off guard and pushed to the ground, the monster’s weight pinning him.  
Sportacus winced and tried to keep his grip on the sword, even as the monster’s body oozed and dripped more of the tar-like gunk onto his chest and shoulder, burning his skin.  
With what room he had, he thrust his sword up and into the monster’s chest, causing it to get up and stare at the sword stuck fast in it.  
The ooze hissed and sizzled, the gunk closing around the sword’s blade.  
Eyes widening, Sportacus reached forward and yanked Robbie free of the goo, leaving a gaping hole in the monster’s body. Before the monster had another moment to react, Sportacus swung his sword diagonally, splitting the monster in twain. The goo tumbled down onto the ground in a messy puddle, further splattering Sportacus with a small drop hitting his cheek, Sportacus yelping at the burn.  
The ooze sunk deep into the earth, plumes of steam rising and circling into the sky. All that was left was the monster’s head, which rolled to look up at Sportacus.  
Not wanting to take a chance, Sportacus yelled and swung low at the head, piercing the ooze and sending the head flying towards a nearby rock. It splattered into more tar gunk against the hard surface, sticking fast and coating the rock’s point.  
It uttered another long, guttural moan as the gunk melted and disintegrated parts of the rock, creating a brand-new maw in the once smooth stone. The remains of the head finally, minutes later, slunk down and onto the ground, disappearing with the rest of its body into the earth.

With the threat finally gone, Sportacus gasped and breathed tiredly, his eyes fixed upon the burned rock. He stared in stunned shock at the destruction around him, the burned patches in the once fresh and lively green grass, the maw in the once smooth stone. He slowly approached the stone and, tentatively, felt at the maw. The interior was jagged, like it had been bitten away rather than melted. He pulled his hand back, pulling back a gray dust that seemed mostly harmless.  
He looked at it uneasily, but before he could make a comment or think another thought, he was overcome with a pain that sent him crumbling to the ground.  
Biting back curses and yelps, he forced his eyes over to his arm. The monster had left some of its gunk behind and it appeared to still be burning his skin. The pain sank into his stomach and left him feeling nauseous and dizzy.  
Looking towards the stream from earlier, he clutched Robbie and dragged himself towards the water’s edge.  
As he did, Robbie’s mind spun in circles from his own pain. Even as a sword, he could feel how the gunk on the blade burned and dug into the metal, leaving him similarly dizzy and aching for relief. He looked over at Sportacus, seeing how pale the elf looked.  
For some reason, he felt uncomfortable seeing this, thus he averted his eyes.  
The two finally reached the stream after what felt like hours. Sportacus lifted Robbie and looked him over, his face paler than earlier.  
Robbie assumed that he would set him off to the side and wash off the gunk on him first.

Instead, Sportacus gently, carefully, dipped Robbie into the water.

Under the rushing stream, Robbie looked about, confusion settling inside him as he saw Sportacus wipe away the gunk that dissolved in the water. He kept at it, even as Robbie noticed his hands trembling, until every trace of gunk had been scrubbed away.  
Sportacus then lifted him back up and, with a dry cloth, patted at the sword until each ounce of condensation was removed.  
All the while, Robbie finally couldn’t avoid looking at the spots of skin still burning from the gunk, which grew increasingly more red and angry looking with the passing seconds. It made a sick feeling bubble in his stomach.  
“Uh, Sportadork? Your, uh, your arm…” He said, the rest dying in his throat as Sportacus’s gaze shifted to meet his.  
Wordlessly, Sportacus set him off onto the shore. Robbie then watched as Sportacus fell into the stream, him cupping water and pouring it over the affected patches of skin. The gunk slowly dissolved and fell away, disintegrating into the stream. All that was left was the irritated spots on his skin, all bright red and near seething.  
Sportacus then got up and waded out of the stream. Once more, he wordlessly picked up Robbie and carried him back towards their campsite, now a wreck from the strange monster’s intrusion.  
He set Robbie on the ground near the tattered bed roll and pulled out a roll of gauze. He went to work applying an herbal salve to each of his wounds, which he covered with said gauze as much as he could.

Robbie watched this and began to feel a sickly pit growing in his stomach.  
It left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable, the feeling only growing the more he looked over at Sportacus.  
For the first time since they’d met, he felt like he should say _something_ to the man, something less than acerbic.  
But he was at a loss, and the pit made it only harder to come up with something.  
“So, uh, good that that monster thing wasn’t bigger, huh? That was a close one.” Robbie said, trying to lighten up the situation.  
Sportacus looked over at him and, instantly, that pit feeling grew all the more sickening.  
The look in Sportacus’s eyes, even with how little Robbie had known him, he knew was all too foreign, uncomfortably foreign.  
It was a look of _hurt_ , one that resembled how he looked at the spring, if not worse.  
Because there was something else laced in that look.  
_Defeat_. _  
Disappointment._

Sportacus didn’t spare a word to Robbie as he finished wrapping his wounds. He packed away the leftover gauze and returned to his bed roll, turning to sleep on his side, turned away from Robbie.

And for the first time in a long time, Robbie truly felt like garbage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robbo, I think you messed up a little.
> 
> Please let me know if you'd like additional tags or warnings added to this story and I will! In the meantime, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. The Dance

It was almost too appropriate that the next day was an overcast one, given the overall mood of the two’s adventure.

Sportacus had woken up at an early hour, long before Robbie. By the time Robbie had woken up, Sportacus had already finished breakfast and checked his wounds. He was the in the middle of saddling up Loftskip and loading his belongings into her side pouches.  
That pit-like feeling returned once he noticed the gauze. Last night, unfortunately, hadn’t been a nightmare.  
The burns and marks still littered their campsite.  
Robbie watched quietly as Sportacus continued to pack. The pit feeling remained.  
He wasn’t used to this feeling. For so long he was perfectly comfortable acting bitter and nasty to each of his wielders, even in situations where their lives were in the balance. He’d done it before and slept okay afterwards with nary another thought after the fact.

This time, however, he hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“Uh…good morning.” He hazarded, hoping perhaps for a “good morning” back.  
He waited, and watched as Sportacus hesitated.  
Much to his less than pleasant surprise, however, the hesitation was only temporary. Sportacus went right back to his packing, with him not even turning around to address Robbie or say anything.  
The pit grew deeper.  
“H-How did you sleep?” He hazarded again.  
Once again, no response.  
“Since you’re, uh, too noodle…too noodle…” Robbie said, the words catching in his throat. “…I didn’t sleep great, if you’re interested.”  
Sportacus turned and walked over. He picked up Robbie and, without a word, slipped him into one of the pouches on the side of Loftskip. He slipped onto the back of Loftskip and directed her towards the road. With a light tap of his boot, the group went out again.

All the while, Robbie felt uneasy.

“…Great talk. Yes. Glad you slept well.” He mumbled quietly, falling silent once more.

\--

The rest of the day continued much like the morning had.

Robbie felt himself bump against Loftskip’s side uncomfortably, a continual rhythm of bumping and swinging with every trot and canter of the horse.  
It wasn’t fun, but Robbie didn’t dare utter a complaint.  
For the time, his focus was Sportacus.  
From when they’d first departed that morning to now, Sportacus hadn’t uttered a word to him. He’d barely acknowledged his companion.  
It wasn’t like Robbie hadn’t _tried_ to make casual conversation. He’d even describe himself as downright pleasant, which felt almost foreign to him.

“Hey, those are the Timber Fell Mountains in the distance, right? I once camped out there as a kid. It was great.”  
“…”  
“Uh, I’m guessing _you_ liked to camp? You seem like a camping sort of guy.”  
“…”  
“Alright, silent treatment. Cool. I can take it. You go be a noodle-brain over there and we can just ignore each other until the end of time.”  
“…”  
“…Actually, that wouldn’t be fun. Let’s not.”  
“…”  
“Cool. Nice talk. Good to focus on the road. I’ll just be over here.”  
“…”

At some point during their journey, Sportacus and Robbie ran into a couple being mugged on the side of the road. The couple, a man and his wife, were trembling as two men with daggers threatened them and rummaged through their wagon.  
Without hesitation, Sportacus pulled off to the side and leapt off Loftskip, him landing perfectly on the ground.  
Robbie expected Sportacus to reach back and grab him to assist in the battle.  
Instead, rather noticeably, Sportacus gave only a single glance back at him before he picked a stick off the ground and ran towards the mugger with that.  
Ouch. Robbie could feel the hit in his core.  
He could only watch as Sportacus nimbly dispatched both muggers with only the stick and his bare hands. Neither mugger stood any chance and Sportacus left with only a small cut on his shoulder. The couple was incredibly thankful, speaking his praises and gifting him with a rather healthy bag of silver and copper coins.  
Sportacus then hopped back onto Loftskip. He hadn’t offered another look or word to Robbie during that whole fight.

At this point, Robbie was wondering if there was any way he could disintegrate his own form, if only to escape the nasty feelings bubbling in his stomach and the now infinitely deep pit in his stomach.  
“Wow, you, uh, really took out those guys. Bare hands and a stick, pretty, um, daring. Yeah. I thought that might be a stupid idea but…uh…” Robbie started once again.  
The words died out once he watched Sportacus crack Loftskip’s reign once again, his expression stern and his gaze focused ahead.  
Robbie gulped and sighed quietly.  
“N-Never mind.” He said softly.

Robbie didn’t dare say another word for the rest of the ride.

\--

The camp for that night was set up close to a small grove of trees, which grew a far half-yard from the main road.   
Sportacus hitched Loftskip to a nearby pear tree, where he helped himself to one of its fruits. After ensuring that Loftskip had water and food for the evening, Sportacus dug out the cooking supplies and the bed roll once more. He looked up at the sky for a moment before walking away, having decided against the tent again.

Robbie was laid on the ground long before hand, and he watched as Sportacus crouched down to start a fire.  
He sat himself up and hopped closer to Sportacus, a thickness in his throat.  
“Uh, hey. Long day, huh?” He started, hoping that a third time would be the charm.  
Not so much. Sportacus continued to work on his dinner and refused to turn around.  
“I bet you’re tired, but I was hoping…you know…” Robbie said, the thickness welling further as the phrase stuck in his throat.  
Sportacus pulled out the skewer of vegetables and took a hearty bite, his back still turned to Robbie.  
Robbie held back his grimace at the ferocious, herbivore-styled mauling on display as he collected his words.  
“Maybe…I’m not good at this, but I…uh…” Robbie started again.  
Sportacus continued to chow down his vegetables at a rather impressive rate. He’d already reached the last veggie on his skewer.  
“I’m…I’m…you know…I’m, uh…” Robbie said, his words mumbled and stuck as he fought with himself.  
Robbie stopped as Sportacus stood up and, for the first time that day, turned to look at him.

Sportacus plucked Robbie off the ground and carried him over towards Loftskip. Unsheathing him, he plunged him into the earth and took a step back, looking at him tiredly.  
“I’m…” Robbie tried again.  
“I’ll take guard duty tonight.” Sportacus said quietly. “You can sleep. See you in the morning.”  
Robbie’s heart sunk at the statement, with him suddenly feeling very sick. He felt even more sick as Sportacus turned around and walked over to his bed roll, leaving Robbie alone by Loftskip.  
He looked up at Loftskip, who only gave him a quiet look and a snort, her hoof digging at the ground.

Robbie sighed sadly. Why did he have to be bad at saying such a simple phrase? He always had been, but it’d never troubled him as much as it did now.  
He watched as Sportacus sat by the fire, his ears occasionally turning to listen for any unusual sounds or danger.  
Now, with him far out of earshot, the thickness in Robbie’s throat finally loosened.  
“…I’m sorry.” He said, hoping that maybe Sportacus would hear him.

Sportacus made no visible response to Robbie’s quiet apology, so Robbie attempted to fall asleep, his dreams restless and uncomfortable.

\--

He hated doing this.

Sportacus knew how awful the silent game was and he knew how horrible it could be to be at the receiving end of such treatment.

At the same time, however, he really needed to impart to Robbie just how _awful_ his behavior the last two days had been.

He could take the insults and criticism just fine. It wouldn’t be fun, of course, but Sportacus was a grown man who’d received his fair share of jeers and comments throughout his life. He could take non-social behavior as he understood that not all people got along due to a number of factors, and he understood that possibly Robbie simply didn’t like him for something out of his control.

Once being nearly allowed to die while Robbie laid and watched was already bad and soured his opinion on the strange, talking weapon.

_Twice_ , however, was unacceptable.

Sportacus so badly wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t. Not after multiple near-death experiences in only two days of being with him. He also knew that he needed to talk to Robbie about it as it was the best way to change his behavior for the better. But at the moment, he couldn’t. His feelings were still too sore after so many terrible betrayals from his own weapon.  
He had heard Robbie attempt to talk to him throughout the day, but he needed time, something neither had much of at the moment.  
He just needed to hear an apology from the weapon, which he had not yet managed to eek out.  
Until then, Sportacus would keep to himself.

He poked at the fire with a stick. He prodded and stirred at the wood to provoke greater fire, the fire spitting out embers and flames in response. The fire glowed and reflected against the golden armor Sportacus wore, which glittered in the evening light.  
Sportacus looked down at it and bit his lip, his gaze fixed upon the chestplate.  
He sighed and, carefully, he loosened the straps and slipped it off over his head. He lifted the front plate and stared at it thoughtfully, his gaze growing sad and distracted.  
He set it to the ground and continued to stare at it.  
He shook his head slowly.  
Aside from the Robbie issue, _this_ was also something of contention.

Why did the armor react to him?  
It made no sense.  
He wasn’t the chosen hero…he _couldn’t be_ …  
There was a hero already chosen, and it certainly wasn’t him.  
He sat back and though for a moment.  
There was an announcement back at Alfenheim, one that occurred years ago.  
The elven leaders had named the hero, the person to protect their city from threats and the prophesized return of The Darkness, when Sportacus was a child. Sportacus remembered this. He remembered cheering for the chosen elf. Why would the armor pick him when he knew the hero is –

Something echoed in the wind.

Sportacus shot up onto his feet and looked about warily, his hands at the ready.  
It was quiet at first.  
Then he heard it again, the sound from just a moment ago.  
It was low, yet sweet. It was like a distant song, one that tugs at the memories and produces a sadness even years after one hears it.  
Sportacus looked towards the woods, his ears perking up.  
The sound was coming from there.  
Sportacus looked down and hesitated as he looked at the armor. He nearly bent down to pick it back up but, eventually, he decided against it. He’d survived this long without the armor, and he was certain that the sound wasn’t a threat.  
He also decided against taking Robbie as he passed by the weapon, hearing a low snore from him.  
He said he’d let him sleep, so he might as well just let him be.  
Sportacus took one more glance at the camp before he jogged into the woods, with only Loftskip looking up as he left.  
He pushed past the brush and low tree branches as he walked, his ears tuned to the sound of the song echoing through the darkened forest. Branches broke and cracked under his boots as he hiked, and his eyes darted as he looked about. He flinched as spiky pine branches brushed against his face and scratched his skin, his steps clumsy as he felt the brush and bushes grow less dense.  
He stumbled forward as the brush abruptly ended, and he found himself entering a clearing in the forest. Falling onto his chest, Sportacus oomphed as he pulled himself upright. He prepared to stand before he stopped, his eyes fixed and widened at the sight.

There was another man in the clearing, a man tall with broad shoulders. His skin was slightly tanned and his hair, long and a chocolate brown, trailed down his back, halting at his mid-back. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of ragged trousers made of a rough looking material.  
Sportacus felt ashamed, but he couldn’t stop staring. Just as he began to wonder how the man’s face would look, the mysterious stranger turned around.  
Oh goodness.  
The man’s eyes, a shining and almost glimmering sea green color, highlighted a face composed of a strong jaw, smiling lips, thick brows and a rounded nose. As soon as his eyes met Sportacus’s, he smiled and the song died out.  
Sportacus could feel his face and ears burn. He wanted to say something, even just a friendly hello, but his words were trapped in his throat. He could only stare into those endless, beautiful eyes.  
The stranger chuckled and bent down, offering a hand to the dumbstruck Sportacus.  
Dumbly, Sportacus took it and was lifted upright by the stranger near effortlessly.  
“T-Thank you.” Sportacus finally managed to eek out, his hand remaining in the stranger’s for far longer than appropriate.  
The stranger didn’t seem to mind though as he held Sportacus’s hand, his other reaching up to brush some of Sportacus’s hair from his face.  
Sportacus immediately noticed the softness of the stranger’s hands, which only made his face burn hotter.  
Smiling warmly, the stranger reached and carefully took Sportacus’s other hand, which Sportacus didn’t protest. Walking backwards, he gently led him along, his eyes fixed upon Sportacus’s.  
Sportacus would’ve looked at where the man was leading him, but he was too busy drowning in the strange man’s eyes.  
The man only hesitated to step over something on the ground, a mushroom, which he did while guiding Sportacus to step over it as well.

As soon as they’d stepped over the tiny obstacle, the scene around them suddenly shifted and Sportacus’s head was left spinning from the change.

Gone was the forest grove and the clearing. Surrounding them now were clusters of smooth rocks, all covered with fluffy green moss and tiny white flowers. Sprawled and lounging upon these rocks were multitudes of beautiful men and women, all just as beautiful as the man who’d left Sportacus smitten. They were all dressed in clothing of various quality, from sack cloth to silk, but one trait remained constant amongst all of them: wings.  
Wings, from colorful butterfly wings to clear dragonfly wings, all of them had them.  
Sportacus blinked, and the stranger’s appearance changed before him. Now he too had his own pair of wings, fuzzy yet colorful like a moth’s.  
“W-What? W-Who…where…” Sportacus started, before the man interrupted him with a finger pressed to his lips.  
Sportacus’s cheeks burned once more, and the man tilted Sportacus’s face towards him.  
The stranger gave him a small smile before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.  
He was stunned, at first. Part of him wasn’t sure how to react, given how sudden the kiss was.  
But, only a half moment later, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment, reciprocating the kiss.  
As he did, light, lilting music filled the area. The winged people on the rocks began to clap their hands and cheer, their eyes turned to the open area in the center.  
Sportacus’s eyes opened, and his gaze turned to the other people. Confusion and alarm bells rang in his head, but the stranger stepped in front of him.  
“Let’s dance.” He said, his voice deep and melodic.  
The music picked up, and the clapping grew louder.  
The stranger smirked and pecked Sportacus once more on the lips, leaving the man dazed and sunk in his gaze. Almost on their own accord, Sportacus felt his feet move, entering the dance the stranger had begun. The winged stranger held his hands and led him along, their feet picking up speed as the music’s tempo grew.  
Sportacus, meanwhile, only could stare into the man’s eyes.  
“Good, good.” Lilted the stranger into Sportacus’s ear.  
He kissed the edge of his ear and was gone.

Sportacus, now alone on the dance floor, was left with the dizzying swirl of colors as he spun and danced, his footwork growing frenetic as the music kept growing faster and faster, almost impossibly so. The people around him laughed and cheer, their clapping increasing the music as he danced.  
He would’ve felt dizzy, and his feet would’ve begun to ache already as the dancing grew wilder and faster. He would’ve panicked and fought to escape the horrible dance if he could.  
But he couldn’t.  
His mind was a dull haze, like he was almost hypnotized. Each attempt to question his situation was replaced with an aching wish for the handsome stranger to return to his side and dance with him again.  
The music picked up once more, and Sportacus’s feet tapped faster.

Tears rolled down Sportacus’s face even as a thin smile was plastered on his face.

\--

What little sleep Robbie had managed to get was riddled with terrible nightmares and horrible dreams.

Dreams of screams, blood, and fearful eyes staring at him, begging _him_ to do something as they fell silent.

These weren’t new dreams for Robbie, but they were nonetheless disturbing.  
As he stirred, he looked about the camp, gazing over at Loftskip.  
The mare had fallen asleep, her chest rising and falling slowly.  
He looked over towards the fire.  
Much to his surprise, Sportacus was gone.  
“ _Had he seen something?_ ” He thought.   
He surveyed the camp, looking at the still burning fire and the bed roll left untouched in the corner.  
“ _If he’d seen something, why didn’t he wake me up?_ ” Thought Robbie, before he cringed.  
Right, he was still in the doghouse.

He hopped over towards the fire and stopped once he noticed the blessed chestplate, discarded and laying by the fire’s edge.  
“He didn’t take his armor? If there was a problem, why wouldn’t he wear it?” He asked himself aloud.  
He twisted and turned to look around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.  
Something uneasy bubbled inside him.  
Something was very wrong here.  
As Robbie thought and looked about, he heard something in the distance.

Something like a song, a lively one with flutes and drums.  
He’d heard a song like that before.  
As he tried to remember where he’d heard the song, the pieces began to fall together, and Robbie was not liking what they were pointing to.

Sportacus discarded his armor because he wasn’t threatened by the sound.  
The sound was coming from the forest.  
The sound was _music_ , and the only beings that would play a song like that were…

Fear filled Robbie’s heart.  
“Oh no. Oh no, it better not be.” He said in horror.  
_Faeries._  
He began to seethe, the blade rattling in anger.  
“Those little winged freaks. They think they can keep up their little game?” Robbie muttered, feeling himself unusually driven as he hopped and leapt his way away from the camp and into the woods.  
He rushed as quickly as he could through the dense brush and tree branches, occasionally leaping forward to swing and chop at the thicker branches and bushes. He panted as he went along, growing quickly weary as he hopped and leapt. He’d never exerted himself as much as he did during his stroll, but this was an emergency.  
He continued to hop until he found the clearing in the forest. He looked about, quickly finding what he was looking for:  
Mushrooms, white with yellow caps, arranged in a ring formation under the baums of a gigantic tree. The mushrooms glowed and twinkled, a light ringing sound echoing in the air. In the center of the ring was a small, golden glow, where the music could be faintly heard.  
He looked down and saw the pair of footprints embedded in the wet grass.  
Robbie at this point was near steaming.  
“You little winged freaks. I don’t care who you take, this little slave trade of yours ends today.” Muttered Robbie.

He then threw himself upwards and aimed the blade’s point at one of the mushrooms, piercing and slicing it in half.

\--

It felt like he’d been dancing for a century.

He had tried repeatedly, desperately, to stop. He tried to walk away, to protest, to cry out for help.

Somehow, however, he couldn’t do any of that. His lips were almost sealed, and his feet were bewitched by something wholly not himself.

His eyes darted about pleadingly, staring at the multitudes of joyous, almost mocking faces that watched him either passively or with a jovial eye. Rivers of wine flowed from sizeable jugs and food was passed around without care. The occasional faerie would enter the dance floor, but mostly Sportacus was on his own.

As he despaired, the winged stranger appeared in front of him and took his hands. He took his hands and pulled him close.  
Sportacus looked at him desperately, and he mentally begged to be freed from the strange dancing curse.  
The faerie, however, only smiled sympathetically and wiped away the latest stream of tears from Sportacus’s face, wagging his finger afterwards.  
“No tears.” He said softly. “Be happy, everyone is loving your dance.”  
Sportacus shuddered. The stranger’s voice no longer held its charming tone; even with the voice staying the same, it now held a menace that made him shiver.  
The stranger kissed his forehead and prepared to step away when he froze.  
Sportacus could hear something crackle above him, and the music soon died away.

Looking up, Sportacus saw cracks form in the air above him, revealing a dome-like golden glow that eclipsed the area. Faeries shrieked and flew chaotically through the open air, their belongings and dishware floating like gravity had vanished.  
The stranger gritted his teeth and flared his wings, his eyes darting about.  
Another crackle, then another, and another.  
The dome above them began to splinter and shatter. The beautiful party scene fell to pieces.  
The stranger’s eyes widened as gravity failed him too, and he suddenly was lifted up into the air, his only anchor being his grip on Sportacus’s hands.  
The stranger stared at Sportacus with an expression of fear and fury. He gripped Sportacus’s hands fiercely, his own hands glowing a bright pink color.  
Sportacus was still dancing and his expression remained fixed, but he felt just enough of his own volition return to pry his hands from the stranger’s grasp.

With an ear-piercing shriek, the stranger flew up and vanished into the dark void above them, leaving Sportacus alone on the remains of the dance floor.  
As he heard the floor beneath him crackle and crumble, he collapsed, his vision blacking out.

\--

Sportacus wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he awoke, but he assumed it wasn’t much given the night sky above him.

He groaned and dragged himself onto his knees, a piercing and racing pain arcing up his legs from his aching feet. His mind was in a fog and he felt a fatigue that he hadn’t experienced in years.  
His mind was so foggy that it took him a moment to register the sounds of struggle occurring just a bit to his right.  
Looking over, Sportacus gasped as he watched Robbie swing himself around, grunting out of exertion. Surrounding the weapon was what looked like tiny people the size of dolls, all surrounded with a colorful glow and flying with little wings. They were throwing little bullets of colored light at Robbie and chittering in angry, chipmunk-like voices.  
“You little pests! Knock it off or I’ll slice your little wings off! I’ve been craving some faerie wing stew so you better get!” Robbie growled as he swung himself.  
This only seemed to infuriate the faeries further, who began to send larger bursts of magic flying at Robbie.

Sportacus, gritting his teeth, sprang into action even as his legs and feet screamed at him to stop.  
He rolled over and snatched Robbie, swinging him at the angered faeries, who screamed and fluttered away. The flat side of the blade connected with one faerie (one that looked a lot like the stranger) and sent him flying into a tree. This seemed to distract the other faeries, who stopped their assault to collect their unconscious comrade. They only gave one last, probably expletive filled rant to Sportacus while pointing at their destroyed ring before they flew away.  
With the danger passed, Sportacus panted and collapsed onto his knees, his body screaming in protest. He dropped Robbie onto the ground as he laid there collecting his breath.  
He stared at Robbie, who he could also hear gasping and panting.  
“…H-Hey.” Robbie finally said, his voice tired.  
Sportacus looked at him, his expression surprised.  
“…H-Hey.” He responded, still panting. “You came to save me?”  
“I mean…yeah.” Robbie finally answered after a moment. “I hate faeries. I wouldn’t let even my worst enemy be enslaved by those winged pests.”  
Sportacus’s expression fell slightly.  
“And…I didn’t want you to get trapped. Are, uh, you okay?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus’s expression perked a bit.  
“I think so. Everything hurts though.” He said.  
“Makes sense. I’m guessing they used a dancing curse?”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Those monsters, of course they did.” Robbie muttered. “At least I got to you before they entrapped you forever.”  
“They would’ve done that?”  
“Duh, they’re faeries. Those things have no moral code and they definitely don’t care about anyone other than themselves.” Robbie said with a snort.  
Sportacus looked down sadly.  
“Ah, right.” He said.  
Robbie felt puzzled by the disappointment on Sportacus’s face, but he decided not to press at the moment.

The two laid there quietly for a time, staring at each other and at their surroundings.  
“Uh, look, I need to say something, and it won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll listen.” Said Robbie with a sigh.  
“Sure. What is it?” said Sportacus.  
Robbie paused.  
“I’m, uh, s…so…sorry.” He said after some hesitation.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened at the statement.  
“I’m sorry I fell asleep last night on guard duty. I really didn’t mean to, but I did, and I shouldn’t have. And, uh, I’m sorry about being kind of…you know…”  
“A jerk?” suggested Sportacus.  
Robbie made a hmm-ing sound.  
“I mean…yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Blunt, but you’re right.” He admitted.  
Sportacus tiredly nodded and smiled.  
“Thank you.” He said quietly.  
“For what?”  
“For apologizing. I’m sorry for ignoring you all day.”  
“I mean, it wasn’t _fun_ ,” Robbie said. “but I understand. I’ve been a jerk to you this whole time. I deserve it.”  
“But why? Why have you been?” asked Sportacus.

Sportacus listened with surprise as Robbie hesitated, then sighed quietly.  
“We don’t have to talk about it now.” Sportacus offered.  
“Right. That’d be, uh, ideal. You look beat.” Robbie said.  
“I am.” Admitted Sportacus, grunting as he attempted to move his legs. “I don’t think I could make it back to the camp.”  
“Then we won’t. We’re safe here now.” Robbie said.  
“There aren’t more faerie rings in this forest?” asked Sportacus.  
“No. Faeries are fiercely territorial. Nothing to worry about.”

“Good.” Was all that Sportacus could say as, before Robbie could say another word, the elf hero crashed into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally the two doofuses talk. Finally.
> 
> Please let me know if you'd like me to add any additional tags or warnings. I'd be more than happy to do that.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. The Message

At first, Sportacus felt a little disoriented waking up. Above him he saw the canopy of tree tops, and the sunlight filtering through the green leaves to light up the forest below.

Hadn’t he set up camp in a field? Why was he in a forest?

The pain in his feet and legs as he sat up soon reminded him why.  
He looked over at the destroyed mushroom ring.  
His eyes widened.  
So everything from last night _wasn’t_ a dream.  
He then looked over after hearing a loud, rumbling snore.  
Said snore was emanating from his sword, which laid a few feet away from him.  
Sportacus smirked and sat in a legs crossed position, making himself busy by gently pulling off his boots.  
That smirk soon faded to a cringe once he’d gotten a good look at his feet.  
Callouses and sores littered the soles of his feet, and streaks of blood painted much of his skin. No wonder he was hurting so much that day.  
He knew he needed to clean up his feet and bandage them, but with Loftskip and his supplies out of the forest, he’d have to put his boots on first.  
And walk.  
Sportacus was already not looking forward to that part.

As he slipped back on his boots, hissing as he did, he heard a yawn and the sound of lips smacking coming from the sword. He looked over and nodded at him.  
“Good morning.” He said.  
Robbie paused.  
“Morning.” He said. “Sleep well?”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“That’s good.” Said Robbie, leaning himself up enough for Sportacus to pick him up by the hilt.  
The two fell quiet for a time.  
“So…last night, huh? Crazy.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded again.  
“So…I was thinking.” Robbie said.  
“Yes?”  
“…we have a long journey ahead of us.” Robbie said. “REALLY long, if you’re really hoping to destroy The Darkness.”  
“Well, yes, that’s the plan.” Said Sportacus.  
“Which you’re nuts for trying.” Robbie stated. “Either way, we’re stuck together. Unless you’re planning to trade me in.”  
“Well…not planning to. Besides, that might be tricky. You’re kind of difficult.” Sportacus said with a shrug.  
“Fair, but still, ouch.” Robbie said. “Anyways, we’re stuck together, and I bet you’d agree that us being this unpleasant to each other – “  
“Mostly from you.”  
“Again, ouch.” Robbie said. “I’m hoping we could maybe get a fresh start. Try this again.”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Sounds fair, you’re right.”

“So, from the beginning,” Robbie said, clearing his throat. “I’m Robbie. Robbie Rotten.”  
“Sportacus.” Sportacus said with a small smile. “Pleased to meet you.”  
“Likewise.” Said Robbie.  
The two went quiet again.  
“So, uh, what now?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned as he attempted to stand, only to cringe and fall back to his knees, his legs quaking.  
“I think I’m a little shot for the day.” Sportacus admitted in a partial grumble. “I can barely stand, much less walk.”  
“Can you crawl?”  
“I think so. Hang on,” Sportacus said, attempting to sheath Robbie before he paused. “um…”  
“My sheath’s back at the camp.” Said Robbie.  
“Ah. Alright. Then sorry in advance if you bump against stuff.”  
“Meh, I’ll deal.” Grumbled Robbie as Sportacus lifted up his feet and crawled along on the points of his knees.  
  
The two crawled past the slightly mangled bushes and shrubs as they made their way through the dense forest, following the path both Robbie and Sportacus had formed the night before. The two had once again grown quiet, though this time it was warranted. After all, Sportacus was trying to focus on the path he made as well as his plans for the day.  
Robbie, however, still felt the quiet too heavily.  
“So, uh, did you know about faeries already?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus paused for a moment.  
“Um, not really.” He answered. “I’d heard about them occasionally in school, but they were talked about like legends, not like existing beings.”  
“Ah, that makes sense.” Robbie said.  
“I’m guessing you’ve had your encounters with them?” asked Sportacus.  
“Sort of?” said Robbie. “I knew a few people who ran into them.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yeah.” Said Robbie, his voice growing quiet. “Not all of them came back to talk about it.”

Sportacus stopped.

“Oh, I’m…I’m really sorry.” Said Sportacus sympathetically.  
Robbie hmphed and gave a single snort of dismissal.  
“It was a long time ago. No need for condolences, they’ve been gone longer than I’ve known them.” He said with an audible frown.  
“Oh, I-I thought…” Sportacus said, his ears drooping. “…never mind.”  
He continued crawling.  
After several more moments of quiet, Robbie spoke up once more.  
“So, what exactly _happened_ last night? How did you get tricked into a fairy ring?”  
Sportacus’s face paled.  
“Well, it’s like you said. I got drawn into a dancing curse.”  
“Right, but that only works once you’re _in_ the fairy ring. What happened before that?”  
Sportacus bit his bottom lip and looked down at the ground, the hesitation bubbling in his throat.  
“I…well…I heard a song. It was a very light and sad song, and I ended up following it.” He explained.  
“Okay.”  
“So I walked through the woods, following the song, wondering who was singing it.”  
“Right.”  
“And I…saw a man. A faerie, but he didn’t have his wings visible.” Sportacus explained, feeling a conflicting mixture of heat and sickness in his face.  
“And, uh…” Sportacus said, the rest of his answer trapped.  
“He seduced you?” asked Robbie bluntly.  
Sportacus’s face burned a bright red.  
“W-What?? N-No!” He answered more loudly than he intended.  
“Well, okay, maybe not that far. He _flirted_ with you then?”  
Sportacus’s face remained red as he averted his gaze.  
“Ah.” Robbie said, not needing his answer.  
Sportacus remained quiet, his face embarrassingly still burning.  
“Those scum. Of course, they’d manipulate you. Not an ounce of shame in their bodies, I swear.” Robbie grumbled.  
Robbie stopped as he noticed Sportacus’s gaze burning into the ground.  
“You okay?” He asked.  
Sportacus sighed softly.  
“Uh…I know it’s tough. But like I said, those faeries are scum. I, uh, imagine it’s hard, but try not to overthink everything. He didn’t care about you, not really. He was trying to trap you in an endless dance for others’ enjoyment. That’s all.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus frowned, causing Robbie to cringe.  
“Right, okay, not helping. I’m not good at this cheering up thing as you might’ve guessed.”  
“It’s okay.” Sportacus said. “I just need some time.”  
“Okay.” Said Robbie, pausing. “For the record though, he’s a total scumbag. It might help you to call him that because you wouldn’t be wrong.”  
Sportacus gave a small smile and chuckled quietly.  
“Yeah. He is.” He agreed.

The two finally emerged from the woods and back into the clearing. Blessedly, the chestplate and Loftskip were still were they’d left them, with Loftskip looking up with a concerned look in her eyes. Sportacus gave her a reassuring smile before he crawled over to her side. He dug out the medical supplies from yesterday and made the final, painful crawl to the riverside to wash his feet and burns from before. The freezing water stung against the sores and callouses on his soles, but Sportacus fought through the pain as he rubbed his aching feet. Once the blood had washed away, he pulled his feet from the water and daintily dried them off with a scrap of cloth. As he rubbed a healing salve and bandaged his feet, his ear perked up to the sound of cooing off to the side.  
Sportacus looked over in time to see a small pigeon-like bird with a pink crest land by his side. It gazed at him curiously, its tiny head cocking from side to side as it clicked and hopped about. It ruffled its feathers quickly.  
“A messenger pigeon?” He asked, before his eyes widened.  
He snapped his fingers and dug out a small scrap of paper and a pencil from his pocket. He went about quickly scribbling a note onto the paper.  
“What are you doing?” asked Robbie.  
“I’m writing a warning for Lord Meanswell. That monster we fought last night is definitely one of The Darkness’s creations, so we need to warn the kingdom, so they can defend themselves.” Said Sportacus, nodding as he read over his note.  
Gesturing to the bird, the pigeon hopped onto his finger and waited patiently for Sportacus to tie the ribbon to its leg.  
“Please bring this to Lord Meanswell at the Kingdom of Meanswell. This is a message of utmost importance.” Sportacus whispered to it.  
The bird nodded as if in understanding. Sportacus gave it a slight push to get it airborne, with the bird soaring off into the distance.  
Sportacus watched until the bird had disappeared into the distance.  
“So…what now?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Now…we rest.” He said, laying and sighing against the bank of the river.

“You know, maybe we’ll get along after all.” Robbie remarked, getting a smirk from Sportacus.

\--

In the throne room of the Kingdom of Meanswell, the three members of the Meanswell family were all together though only in presence. Lord Meanswell was busy at work, looking over proposals and deeds, reviewing and scrutinizing them with a judging eye. Lady Busybody fanned herself in a bored fashion as she leaned against her palm, her gaze occasionally flitting towards her niece to keep an eye on her. Princess Stephanie, at the moment, played contently with her dolls and toys on the floor.  
“Dear, your tiara is slipping.” Lady Busybody pointed out quietly.  
Stephanie paused and adjusted her tiara. She gave a thankful nod to her aunt.  
“Hmm,” Lord Meanswell stated as he tapped his chin. “the citizens are adamant about a new fountain. That would force us to close the market place for some time.”  
“We can just change the statue on the top. The fountain will simply be a little plain for a while.” Said Lady Busybody as she fluttered her fan.  
“Fair enough. I’ll sign the proposal.” Lord Meanswell said as he signed the paper.

At that time, a pigeon flew in through the open high window, cooing and fluttering until it reached the arm of Lord Meanswell’s throne.  
Lord Meanswell laid down the proposals and quirked an eyebrow.  
“Oh, hello? Now who are you?” asked Lord Meanswell.  
He eyed the tiny scroll tied to the bird’s leg. Carefully he untied the scroll and let the pigeon fly off, the bird flapping back up and out into the sky.  
“What is it?” asked Lady Busybody.  
Lord Meanswell initially didn’t answer as he unrolled the note and read the message, his brow furrowing deeper as he did. As he reached the end of the message, his eyes widened, and his face paled to a ghostly white.  
“Dear? Are you okay?” asked Lady Busybody nervously. She reached over and placed a hand on his arm.  
Lord Meanswell laid down the note and shook his head.  
“Dear…The Darkness has been spotted in the countryside, a day’s journey away.”  
Lady Busybody gasped loudly, her hand rushing up to cover her mouth. Princess Stephanie froze, her attention snapping over to her uncle and aunt.  
“A-Are you sure?” Lady Busybody asked.  
Lord Meanswell nodded.  
“This is a note from Sportacus. He said he saw The Darkness take the form of a human, and that its skin is toxic.” He said.  
“Oh my.” Lady Busybody said in a hushed voice.  
“Uncle, what’re we going to do?” asked Princess Stephanie, rushing to his side.

Lord Meanswell paused, his gaze falling to the floor as he thought. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead until he looked up, a determine look crossing his face. He stood up and gestured for a guard standing attention.  
“Uncle?” asked Princess Stephanie.  
“There’s only two choices we can make, my dears. Either we sit here and do nothing, or we put up as good of a fight as we can.” Lord Meanswell stated firmly.  
He looked at the guard.  
“Bring me the royal messenger. I wish to pen a message to the Kingdom of Spoilero. If The Darkness was spotted that close to our kingdom, they’ll be in danger too.”  
The guard nodded and rushed off. Within minutes he brought back the messenger, a young man dressed in powder blue puffy clothes.  
“Take down a message.” Stated Lord Meanswell. “Address it to the queen of Spoilero. Let her know that The Darkness has been spotted within our borders and her presence, along with her army, is required immediately.”  
He looked over at Lady Busybody, who gestured at him to add more.  
“Oh my, and um, let her know that I’ll compensate her for her time, and that I understand that she’s very busy.” He said quickly.  
The messenger had been writing wildly that whole time and, with the message completed, he nodded and rushed out of the room, the doors slamming behind him.

“Uncle? Are you really planning to fight The Darkness?” asked Princess Stephanie nervously.  
Lord Meanswell looked over at his niece and gave her a half-smile. He ruffled her hair and gave her a reassuring look.  
“It’ll be okay, Stephanie. With the two kingdom’s armies together, we’ll be able to hold of The Darkness long enough for Sportacus to defeat it once and for all.” He said.  
“But…mom and dad…” Stephanie said quietly, her eyes glistening.  
“Stephanie, sweetie,” said Lady Busybody as she rushed over. “it’s going to be okay. Your uncle is right, we’ll have the power of two armies this time to fight The Darkness. And after it’s defeated, we’ll be able to bring your parents back. Things will be okay, we just have to keep hope.”  
“Your aunt is right. We can’t afford to despair. We need to remain hopeful, okay?” said Lord Meanswell, smiling sadly.  
Princess Stephanie pursed her lips, her gaze falling to her shoes. After a moment, she nodded slowly, though reluctantly.  
“Thank you dear.” Said Lady Busybody, hugging her gently.  
Afterwards the lord and lady returned to the thrones to plan out their battle strategies with their generals.

Stephanie, meanwhile, sauntered off alone, her mind distracted by worried and fearful thoughts. She clutched her bear close, small tears rolling down her cheeks. She passed by a handful of guards who looked at her worriedly.  
“Your highness, is everything alright?” asked one guard.  
Princess Stephanie paused and closed her eyes. She sighed and shook her head.  
“No.” She answered simply.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” asked the guard.  
Princess Stephanie stayed quiet until something crossed her mind. Her eyes widened, and her attention snapped to the guard.  
“Yes. Please bring me an empty bottle with its cork, a slip of paper, a quill, and ink. I need to write a letter.” She said.  
The guard looked confused but nonetheless complied. He rushed off and returned minutes later with her requested items.  
“Your highness, if I may ask, what do you plan to do with these items?” the guard asked.  
The princess took the items and shook her head.  
“I’m afraid I can’t say. I’ll be back soon however.” She said, speeding off before the guard could ask anything more.

She wove through the vast and winding hallways of the castle until she reached a low hanging painting of a duke she couldn’t name. She pushed aside the painting and revealed a small, dark tunnel. After looking about, Princess Stephanie slipped into the tunnel and crawled through. She crawled for several minutes before she tumbled out of the exit and down a small, grassy knoll. She rolled until coming to a stop right by the edge of an energetic and noisy river. Shaking her head and regaining her bearings, the princess pulled out her belongings and set them to the side. She dipped the point of the quill and began to pen her message:  
  
“ _My dear friend Ziggy,_

_I hope life finds you well and I wish this message came to you under better circumstances. I have just heard from my uncle that The Darkness has been seen around a day’s journey from your home. I wished to warn you as well as invite you and your village to the Kingdom of Meanswell. My uncle is planning on assembling a combined army to fend off The Darkness’s power and I imagine your family would want to be involved. I can ensure that tension doesn’t arise as long as you convince your family to come._

_I hope to see you soon, and please be safe._

_-Stephanie_ ”

With her note complete, she rolled it into a scroll and stuffed it in the bottle. Popping the cork on top of it, she then walked along the river’s edge. She eyed the tides and eddies until she spotted a specific rock, marked with a small splash of blue paint. Carefully she dipped the bottle into the water and let it go. She watched until the bottle had vanished from her sight and floated down the river.  
Sighing nervously, she idled by the river for only a while longer before she returned to the tunnel and crawled back into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter to give a little breather, I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless. The next chapter may be a bit as I solidify plans for the following chapters so I hope that's okay.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. The Dragon

A day spent resting was exactly what both Sportacus and Robbie needed. The next day the two woke up refreshed and ready to go. Yes, Sportacus’s gait was still unsteady and more limp than walk due to the sores on his feet, but with much of the travel time to be spent on a horse he’d manage. He quickly packed up the camp and hopped atop of Loftskip. With a crack of the reigns the group was off once more.  
And with a whole day lost to rest, they’d have to pick up the pace.  
“We’re still a few days out from the Kingdom of Spoilero. If we can keep a breezy pace, we could potentially shave a few hours off of our journey but no more.” Sportacus noted as he laid close to his mare in hopes of reducing wind resistance.  
He glanced over at Robbie, his eyes widening.  
“Oh, whoops! Here we go.” Sportacus said, pulling Robbie over to secure him from bouncing. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t let me know.”  
“Oh please, give me _some_ credit Sportacow. I’m a changed man! No more complaining from me for now on.” Responded Robbie.  
“Really? You’re serious?” Sportacus asked in surprise.  
Robbie sputtered and giggled.  
Sportacus rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
“I got you going though, right?” Robbie said.  
“You really did, Robbie.” Sportacus noted wearily with a small smile.  
“I more wasn’t going to bother. You don’t seem to remember to secure me so why say anything?”  
“I’m not exactly used to having a weapon that complains, to be fair.” Sportacus pointed out.  
“But also to be fair, I think I’ve made my grievances clear often enough for you to remember.” Robbie stated.  
“We’re at an impasse then. We’ll agree to disagree, and both try to do better.”  
“Wow, how perfectly _dull_ of you to say.” Robbie said sarcastically.  
Sportacus chuckled and looked back ahead to keep his eyes on the road.

Loftskip trotted and cantered past fields upon fields of beautiful, colorful flowers. The air was a warm and fragrant mix of all these different blossoms, the concoction causing Sportacus to both sigh in content as well as feel a slight itch under his eyes. A cloud of butterflies fluttered past with one landing on Loftskip’s nose. The mare snorted and shook her head to send said butterfly on its way. In the distance they could see the remains of a snow pack melting into a vibrant and vivacious waterfall that sparkled in the sun.  
“I’m about to hurl.” Mumbled Robbie.  
Sportacus looked down at him with a quirked eyebrow.  
“All we need are dancing and singing rabbits to make this place more saccharine. Please. Can we hurry through here?” grumbled Robbie.  
“Well I think it’s nice. It’s peaceful, and the flowers are beautiful.” Sportacus retorted.  
“Sure, it’s nice. It’s nice if you like getting cavities just by staring at it.” Muttered Robbie.  
“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?” asked Sportacus.  
“Oh there is. Give me naps and cake and I’m in heaven.” Stated Robbie.  
“Naps are okay, but I can’t agree on the cake.” Sportacus said thoughtfully.  
“And just when I was starting to like you, you say that. Oh well, we had a good run.” Robbie said with a harsh sigh.  
Sportacus sighed and chuckled. He shook his head.

The two rode along and slowed as Loftskip began to breathe heavily. Sportacus pulled back on the reigns, letting Loftskip continue along at a walk.  
“Easy girl. We’re safe here, so take it easy.” Sportacus said soothingly as he patted her neck.  
Loftskip shook her head and flicked her ears.  
“Hey, I think I see someone over there.” Robbie stated.  
Sportacus looked over towards where Robbie was pointed and squinted, his eyes scanning through the fields of colorful flowers.  
Indeed, a few yards out, Sportacus could see what looked like a little boy. The boy had bright blonde hair in a short cut, which appeared near invisible amongst the buttercups that surrounded him. He was dressed in clothes that Sportacus, admittedly, had only seen in his history books: rather than cotton, he appeared to be dressed in wool and leather. Shining at his side was a sword made of iron, which made Sportacus wince with unease.  
The boy was crouched in the meadows and was busy filling a basket with the wildflowers.  
“Is there a village nearby? He’s pretty far out if not.” Sportacus asked thoughtfully.  
“Don’t know. And on that thought, where’s his parents? He’s the only other person I can see.” Added Robbie.  
Sportacus shrugged.  
“Perhaps there’s a town neither of us know about. I’m not familiar with this part of the country.” Sportacus said, pulling out a map.  
He looked it over.  
“According to this map, the closest town is only two days away from the Kingdom of Spoilero. Otherwise, there’s nothing even remotely close.” Said Sportacus.  
“You gonna talk to the kid? See if he’s lost?” asked Robbie.  
“I don’t know…” said Sportacus thoughtfully.

Before he could make another decision, an earth-shaking roar nearly sent Sportacus tumbling off Loftskip.

The little boy in the field’s gaze snapped up to the sky and, instantly, he shrieked in horror. He grabbed his sword in preparation, but it was clear he was petrified with fear.  
Sportacus gathered himself and turned towards where the boy was looking, and he too was shaken by the sight.  
He’d heard of dragons many times before in his classes, both in history and lore, but _this_ was new to him.  
Dragons, as he’d learned, were elegant, mighty, terrifying, but beautiful creatures with scales shining in the sun in all different colors. This dragon’s skin could barely be classified as green. This dragon’s skin could barely be classified as _skin_.  
What little skin remained on its body barely concealed the congealed and pulsating mass of black ooze that permeated every inch of its body and the bones that stuck out visibly from much of its form. Its eyes, glowing a ghastly yellow, scanned the earth below. Its maw was stuck open, and more black ooze dripped from its teeth.  
It was like a decomposing dragon had been reanimated, and whatever it touched withered instantly from its presence.  
The dragon’s gaze fell upon the young boy, who visibly shook and audibly whimpered in the field. The boy’s gaze deviated for only second to meet Sportacus’s, his eyes wide and pleading.  
“M-Mister! P-Please - !” The boy started, before he was abruptly snatched up into the dragon’s claws.  
Sportacus gasped and yanked Loftskip to the left, apologizing to her in his head. With a crack of the reigns he sent her galloping off towards the dragon. He pulled Robbie out of the sheath and chased after the dragon, but the beast was barreling ahead at an incredible speed.  
“H-HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE!” The boy screamed as the dragon roared once more, the black spit from its teeth flinging out and burning the meadows below it.  
Sportacus gritted his teeth and held onto Loftskip’s reigns firmly, tugging her in sharp turns as they dodged the acidic black ooze that rained from the dragon’s body. Said ooze splashed in pond sized puddles against the earth, eating away the beautiful flowers and leaving barren patches in their wake.  
As Sportacus prepared to stand atop his steed to reach for the dragon, Loftskip came to a sudden and screeching halt as a particularly large glob of ooze crashed mere feet away from her. Loftskip whinnied and screamed as she bucked, which sent Sportacus tumbling off her and landing roughly on the ground.

Sportacus groaned as he brought himself back onto his knees and cringed at the pain lacing up his body. He looked up helplessly as the dragon vanished over the hillside with the boy still in its grip.  
Glaring in its direction, Sportacus dragged himself onto his feet and limped to his horse. After calming Loftskip down, he clambered aboard her once more.  
“Do you have a plan? How are we supposed to defeat that thing, it’s _massive_!” asked Robbie nervously.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“I don’t, but we don’t have the luxury to stop and think. That boy’s in trouble, and he needs us now.” He said.  
“I mean it’s better to act smarter than faster, right? This is a dragon we’re talking about, and the last thing we need is for you to get eat – YIPE!”

Robbie was abruptly cut off as Sportacus cracked Loftskip’s reigns, setting them on a course past the hills ahead.

\--

He must’ve followed the dragon for miles, crossing over swamps and barren fields with scorched trees, before Sportacus finally halted before a giant cave. The stone structure stood like a gaping maw, its mouth filled with jagged stalactite teeth and a rippled floor tongue. Gently Sportacus led Loftskip to trot closer to the cave’s opening until they were a few feet from the entrance. He pulled back on the reigns and hopped off. Patting her neck, Sportacus fetched Robbie from the side of her saddle and tied the sheath to his belt once more.  
He took a sharp breath and exhaled.  
“Alright, here we go. The dragon and that boy should be right in that cave. Let’s go.” He said as he turned on his heel and started to walk.  
As soon as he started to walk, however, he felt something heavy pull in the opposite direction. It jerked his balance slightly off and caught his attention.  
Sportacus looked about before he looked down. He saw Robbie pulling away, the tip of the blade pointed straight backwards with the sword near floating away.  
“Uh, Robbie? The cave is _that_ way.” Sportacus said, pointing towards the cave opening.  
“Oh, I know. We’re just not going that way.” Robbie mumbled quickly.  
Sportacus blinked in surprise.  
“What do you mean? Of course, we’re going that way. That’s where the dragon is.”  
“Sportadork, are you even listening to yourself? I mean…have you ever _faced_ a dragon?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned as he thought.  
“No.” He admitted.  
“Exactly. You have no idea what you’re trying to fight here. Those things can spit fire hotter than a blacksmith’s hottest forge. They can _melt_ rock. They’re half the size of a castle and can split mountains with their tails. And their _jaws_? Don’t get me started. You’d be a morsel to them and, get caught in their jaws, they won’t hesitate to chomp you into tiny, bloody pieces that splatter across the walls and leave no trace of whomever you were and…and…”

Sportacus’s eyes widened as he could hear Robbie pant heavily, his pace erratic and panicked.  
“Robbie?” asked Sportacus worriedly.  
He heard Robbie suck in a deep breath and exhale loudly. He swallowed dryly.  
“My point is, you’re running straight into a losing battle. The odds are against you. Do you understand that? And if you do, why do you still want to go in there?”  
Sportacus paused and nodded, before he looked at the sword seriously.  
“Because there’s a little boy in there who’s frightened and thinks he’s about to die. If _we_ have no chance against that beast, then I bet you understand how little of a chance that kid has without us. I think you know we can’t leave him in there alone, right?” He said quietly.  
He waited, and finally he heard Robbie sigh.  
“No, we can’t. I know that.” He admitted.  
“Just nervous?” asked Sportacus.  
“Nooo, I’m _dying_ to go in.” Robbie stated before stopping. “Not my best choice of words I think.”  
“Not really.” Sportacus said, chuckling. “Look, just take a deep breath. We’ll be quiet and careful, and that should keep us alive. Okay?”  
Robbie made a non-committal noise.  
“Robbie?”  
The sword sighed.  
“I don’t have a choice. Just…try not to die, okay?” He asked.  
“I’ll try.” Sportacus said with a small smile as he walked towards the cave.

He slunk against the rocky wall of the cave’s exterior, sneaking carefully and holding his sword close to him as he did. Slowly but surely, he approached the opening, the golden glow inside reflecting against the area surrounding the cave. Squinting in preparation, Sportacus peeked his head around the corner.  
He gaped as the troves of silver and gold that glittered against the dull cave walls. Piles and mountains of gold coins, jewels, armor pieces, weapons, and other shining trinkets filled each of the piles which the dragon slumbered upon.  
Said dragon, as horrifying as he was earlier, was an even more terrifying sight up close. It laid sprawled across its hoard, its rotted wings tucked against its body which oozed more of the noxious black goo. It breathed, but its movement were unnatural and stiff, much like it was a puppet on strings. A small stream of black ooze pooled underneath its boney chin, yet the corrosive oil didn’t burn or eat away at its exposed jaw.  
And, trapped within a cage formed by the dragon’s boney claws, sat the young boy. Even from Sportacus’s spot he could see how terribly the boy trembled, his sword clutched in his hands.  
The dragon was fast asleep, with columns of smoke pooling up to the ceiling with every snore it bellowed.  
Sportacus could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise as he gulped audibly. Creeping forward, he drew his sword.  
He stopped as he noticed how terribly Robbie trembled, the blade wiggling and wobbling. His eyes darted between the blade and the dragon.  
“Try to calm down, Robbie.” He said hushed and nearly silently.  
Much to his surprise, Robbie said nothing in response, not even a retort. His shaking slowed, but he still visibly trembled.  
Nodding, Sportacus continued to sneak along. His gaze was aimed towards the rocks that sat at the right of the dragon’s claws. His eyes remained fixed upon the dragon as he crept, his gaze only deviating once to the boy in the dragon’s claws.  
The boy gasped and snuck forward, his sword bumping against the floor.  
Sportacus waved his hands desperately and shushed the boy, gesturing to the dragon.  
The dragon sputtered, but continued to snore. Its claws clenched slightly, though nothing to hurt the boy.  
The boy, nervously, nodded and curled himself into a ball.

Sportacus, uneasily, surveyed the scenario and thought to himself feverishly about what he’d do to both save the young boy while not disturbing or waking the dragon. Each idea he came up with, from charging forward recklessly to hack away at the bones to gently pulling the boy free, ended in disaster in his mind, usually with him and the boy becoming the main course for the humongous dragon.  
He sat back carefully on the ground and ran a hand through his hair. He was stumped but needed to come up with something quickly.  
He sighed quietly and sat back up. He looked at the boy and, at that moment, realized he’d have to try something lest he run out of time.  
So he went with a variation of one of his earlier plans. Inching forward, Sportacus crept towards the dragon’s claws and poked his arm between two of the boney claws.  
“Come on! Don’t be scared, I’m here to help you!” Sportacus whispered with a shaky smile.  
The boy looked visibly anxious, but nonetheless he nodded. He carefully scooted across the floor, holding up his sword to prevent scraping, as he drew himself towards Sportacus at an agonizingly slow pace.  
With each scoot, Sportacus’s eyes would dart nervously over to the dragon, watching for any sign of waking.  
Finally, after what felt like too much time, the boy was barely a finger’s length away from Sportacus. Cringing, he leaned a bit to his right, stretching his arm as far as he could. Much to his luck, the boy clutched onto his hand tightly.  
“Okay. Just move with me carefully and prepare to duck behind that rock there.” Sportacus said, pointing towards the rock he’d been hiding behind.  
“W-What about you?” asked the boy nervously.  
“I’ll be fine. Are you ready?” asked Sportacus.  
The boy nodded despite the frown on his face.  
Sportacus took a breath and sighed.  
“Alright. 3…2…1…” He counted.

With a quiet grunt, he yanked back and managed to pull the boy out in one pull.

Both Sportacus and the boy fell and rolled back, with Sportacus’s armored back clanking against the stone floor. The boy scurried back onto his feet and scrambled away just as the dragon stirred and growled.  
The beast rose onto its feet, its yellow eyes flitting to fix upon Sportacus, still sprawled on the ground. The dragon uttered a shrieking roar, sending globs of black ooze splattering about the cavern.  
Sportacus, hastily, scrambled onto his knees, but failed to get back onto his feet before the dragon attempted to slam him into the ground with its claws. Immediately Sportacus swung Robbie upwards and barely blocked the dragon’s strike, the blade taking most of the brunt. Despite this, however, Sportacus was still slammed back into the earth, the air being flung out of his lungs as he did.  
He gasped and coughed horribly, rolling to his side to avoid another strike from the dragon. He scrambled onto his knees and then to his feet as he ran from the dragon’s reach. The beast roared and vomited waterfalls of black ooze that barreled right towards the elf. Sportacus rolled and ducked away, just narrowly escaping the spray of toxic sludge. The sludge splashed against the cave wall and immediately started eating away at the stone, opening a new tunnel.  
Catching his breath, Sportacus stood back up with his sword at the ready. He stared as the dragon stared back, its mouth gaped open as it presented its teeth menacingly. It hissed lowly and charged forward, the black spit-like ooze flying from its mouth.  
Sportacus swung his sword at the dragon’s snout, scraping a layer of its decaying skin away. The dragon didn’t even flinch as it attempted to snap at Sportacus, the elf barely dodging its bite. He was less lucky as the dragon’s claw surged forward in attempt to snatch him up. While he avoided being grabbed, the claw did skirt his shirt sleeve, slicing open a new opening. He flinched as he hopped and rolled away. Once he was far away enough, he clutched his arm. He stared over at the dragon with wide eyes and gritted teeth.  
The dragon stared at him with hungry eyes, its wings opening wide.  
Sportacus grasped the grip of the sword tighter, his eyebrows knitting as he stood. With his eyes fixed upon the dragon’s, he charged forward with his best battle cry. Lifting his sword up high, he flipped forward and slammed the sword down, ripping through the rotted skin of its left wing.

The dragon shrieked and flailed, more black ooze spilling everywhere as it did. Sportacus fell back to the floor as the dragon’s scream rattled the cave and sent some smaller rocks raining down upon him and the young boy.  
“M-Mister! Watch out!” cried the boy.  
The dragon’s attention immediately snapped over to the rock the boy hid behind. It crawled towards it slowly.  
Sportacus looked over, some of his hair falling into his face. He gasped and, desperately, he grabbed a rock from the ground and hauled it at the dragon’s eye. It met its target and forced the dragon’s attention back to him.  
Sportacus shakily stood to his feet, his blonde hair loose against his neck, as he held his sword at the ready.  
“Pick on someone closer to your size.” Sportacus said, internally knowing how lame the comment was.  
The dragon roared and scraped its claws against the floor, creating white grooves. It charged forward and leaned its head down, preparing to headbutt Sportacus.  
Sportacus, as strongly as he could, held his ground and prepared to slice at the dragon’s forehead. He swung the sword down and buried it in its head, at the same time he was rammed into by the dragon who flung him back.  
Sportacus flew through the air and came to a rather painful stop against the stone wall in the back, his head smacking against the wall. He gasped in shock, the air leaving his lungs, as he slid back down to the ground. He groaned, his vision swimming with stars and darkness as it blurred and tilted.  
He attempted to pull himself onto his feet, but instead he stumbled forward. He felt terribly sick as he collapsed back down onto the floor.  
“U…Ugh…” He mumbled, his half-lidded eyes focusing barely upon the dragon.  
The dragon was stalking him almost mockingly, its bloated purple tongue lolling between its sharp teeth.  
“Sportacow! Sportacow don’t you dare give up! Damn it, get up! Get up! GET UP!” screamed Robbie as he laid by his side.  
Sportacus attempted to lift his head, but failed.  
“S-Sportacus, get up. Get up, get up, get up, GET UP THE DRAGON’S RIGHT THERE GET UP DO YOU WANT TO BE EATEN??” rambled Robbie feverishly as he bumped his hilt against Sportacus repeatedly.

The boy, from his hiding spot, watched in horror as the dragon closed in upon his savior. His eyes watered as he silently begged for the warrior to rise, his heart sinking as he watched the warrior slow and still.  
His eyes darted to his iron sword, which hung still from his belt. He gulped down a breath as he unsheathed it and, nervously, darted from his hiding spot.  
He watched and waited. As he saw how the dragon was seemingly ignoring him, he grasped his sword and frowned.  
“Have to make papa proud. A real Dragonshelm warrior doesn’t let another warrior die on his watch!” He repeated to himself under his breath, his grip growing tighter.  
Finally, his nerves set aside, he charged forward and bellowed a high pitch, but nonetheless menacing cry.  
The dragon stopped and snapped its attention to the pint-sized warrior that was sprinting straight towards it. The boy swung the sword and hacked at the dragon’s tail, chopping and swinging furiously at the tough bone.  
The dragon snorted and started to turn away, its attention diverted from Sportacus, who’d just managed to lift its head.  
“K-Kid? Kid, get away!” cried Robbie worriedly.  
“N-No…” mumbled Sportacus as he fought to rise to his knees.  
The dragon growled and snapped at the air menacingly, startling a squeak out of the boy.  
“H-Hey! Y-You leave that n-nice man alone! W-Why are you s-such a b-bully?” asked the boy, his composure failing him.  
The dragon chortled and bared its teeth threateningly. Then, with a simple flick of its claws, it swung at the boy and flung him away. The boy screamed and fell back to the floor, his sword sliding away from his grasp and his back hitting the wall. The boy sniffled, groaned, and laid flat against the floor as the dragon drew closer.

Sportacus and Robbie watched this in wide-eyed shock.  
“Oh…Oh…” said Robbie, fumbling.  
Sportacus frowned, his lips thinning. With a series of grunts and groans, he lifted himself onto his feet, his balance wobbling as he did.  
Something burned deep within him.  
“…OH IT IS GOING DOWN!” growled Robbie. “It’s one thing to beat you up, but the kid? Not okay!”  
“N-No…won’t…” mumbled Sportacus as he lifted Robbie up.  
The burning feeling grew.  
“You ugly, maggoty lizard! You lay one more claw on that kid, and we’ll reduce you back to a snake!” Robbie hissed.  
“You hurt the boy…” said Sportacus, his gaze resting coolly upon the dragon. “I…”  
“I…” snarled Robbie.  
“We…” said Sportacus, feeling something growing within him. His eyes forced shut as the feeling, the burning, the _energy_ , grew unbearably strong and encompassing.  
The chestplate rattled and glowed brighter with each passing second, a humming filling the air as it did.

And, within a minute, the chestplate flared and a sharp _ping_ rang through the air.

The dragon spun around, its yellow eyes shrinking at the sight.  
Sportacus now stood tall, and he was near _glowing_. A bright, warm, golden light spilled from his chestplate and swirled up to his arms and Robbie. His hair fluttered as if in a gentle breeze as he opened his eyes.  
A shine of golden light was reflected in his blue.  
“ _…will_ not _allow this._ ” He said, his voice holding a power leagues greater than possible for him.  
The dragon snarled defiantly and slammed its claws into the floor. The boy, watching from a distance, stared in gaped awe.  
“ _Darkness! You have polluted this grand beast’s body for far too long! Let it rest, or we shall destroy you!_ ” Sportacus spoke, his brows knitting together.  
The boy listened in shock.  
Could he hear a slightly more…feminine voice mixed in with the warrior’s?  
Was it…?  
The dragon roared, flapped its wings, and charged forward.  
Sportacus took a deep breath, the light flaring and flickering.  
“ _So be it!_ ” He shouted, the light perforating the blade of his sword as he sprinted forward.  
The dragon snapped and bit at the air as Sportacus ran, his eyes glowering at the beast.  
Without warning, Sportacus leapt up several feet into the air into a front flip. In mid-air he threw himself forward, aiming his glowing sword at the dragon’s coccyx.  
He hit it perfectly, and the glowing blade shrieked as it cleanly sliced through the dragon’s tail, severing it and leaving it squirming and flailing on the ground.  
The dragon wailed and turned. It spat a fat glob of the black ooze straight at Sportacus.  
The boy gasped in horror.  
Sportacus, however, stood his ground. The glob flew at his chestplate however, before it could even hit the metal, it evaporated in a plume of pale steam.  
Sportacus glared at the beast.  
“ _Yield, monster! Face your fate!_ ” He shouted as he spun his sword in his hand.

The dragon roared defiantly once more and flared its wings.  
Sportacus yelled and charged forward, his sword at the ready. He nimbly dodged each strike from the dragon, with him cleaving off its left leg as he did. His one swing towards the dragon’s leg disintegrated it into powdery dust and left the dragon imbalanced.  
Sportacus’s gaze scanned the fallen dragon, looking for something…something…  
_There_.  
In the center of the dragon’s chest was a lump of black ooze of noticeable size.  
Its _heart_.  
Sportacus rolled forward and leapt up into the air. He drew his sword back and, with a scream, he plunged the glowing blade deep into the black heart.  
The dragon’s eyes shrunk to pinpricks as it felt the blade sink into its heart. It froze, its body stiffening as its strength left its body.  
Sportacus stayed there, the blade buried deep in the dragon’s body, as he watched the golden glow lace through the black goo like a glowing spiderweb. Everything the light touched burned and sizzled like the embers of a fire, the burnt bits swirling up and disappearing against the ceiling.  
The light travelled fast, eating away the black goo and leaving nothing but the dragon’s carcass behind. It finally reached its skull and ate away the remaining rotted skin and ooze, the dragon’s eyes rolling back as it was finally eclipsed by the light.

With the Darkness gone, the dragon’s remaining skeleton collapsed to the ground in a clattering heap.  
And with it, the light that had filled and exuded from Sportacus left him and Robbie suddenly, his hair fluttering back to his shoulders.  
Immediately afterwards, Sportacus fell forward, slumping onto his chest flat on the ground. His sword clattered to the ground next to him.

“Mister!” shouted the boy as he finally emerged from his spot. He rushed over towards the elf and shook his shoulder worriedly.  
“Mister, are you okay?” He asked.  
“I think so.” Groaned Sportacus as he lifted his head.  
The boy, finally assured he was alive, grinned from ear to ear.  
“That was so cool! You were just glowing, and you talked in that funny voice, and you just _crushed_ that mean nasty dragon like it was nothing!” The boy rambled excitedly.  
“I…I did? Wait…what? I what?” Sportacus asked confusedly.  
“Oh good gods, I’ll be feeling this headache for a century.” Moaned Robbie. “What happened?”  
“Your sword talks!” gasped the boy.  
“Very astute of you, kid.” Grumbled Robbie. “Now again, what happened? We saw you get slapped by the dragon and now we’re on the ground with no dragon.”  
“Well, no _moving_ dragon.” Sportacus said, pulling himself onto his knees.   
“You guys don’t remember?” asked the boy, his eyebrow quirking up.  
“I remember a little. I felt something burn inside of me, and I saw a light. That’s it though.” Sportacus admitted.  
“Oh it was great! You both were glowing like suns! You were talking with a weird voice, but boy did it scare the dragon! And your sword was glowing too! It cleaved through the bone like it was nothing!” said the boy.  
Sportacus looked at Robbie confusedly.  
“But…but how?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie simply made a non-committal noise.  
Sportacus glanced down at his armor, his eyes widening in thought.  
The chestplate shone and sparkled.  
“The armor…do you think?” he asked Robbie.  
“Makes about as much sense as anything else.” He muttered.  
“Hey, Mr. Sword, you were awesome too.” Said the kid with a sincere smile.  
“I have a name, kid. I’m not Mr. Sword and don’t call me that.”  
“Robbie.” Sportacus scolded him before he looked at the kid. “Here’s let’s get out of here…”  
“Ziggy!” piped up the boy.

Sportacus smiled.  
“Alright Ziggy, let’s get out of this cave. We should get you home.”

\--

The trio emerged from the cave and blinked at the bright sunlight. Sportacus sighed, relieved that everyone got out of their encounter alive and (mostly) intact.

“So, Ziggy, where is your home? We can take you back.” He offered.  
Ziggy pursed his lips and looked about. He stopped as he looked to his left, his eyes widening with delight.  
“I’ll be okay! My friends are here to take me home!” He said.  
Sportacus looked confusedly at him.  
“Friends? Who – “He said.

“HALT! DON’T MOVE A MUSCLE, POINTED-EAR STRANGER!” bellowed a deep voice.  
Sportacus turned and froze as he was met, face to face, with at least half a dozen pointed weapons aimed straight at his face.  
He yelped and leapt back, only to feel another half dozen weapons poking at his back.  
His eyes trailed up, and his mouth dropped as he looked dead in the eyes of a massive, hulking warrior.  
The whole lot must’ve stood over six feet at least, and all were built like mountains. Their long hair was tied in fashions ranging from braids to tails, and their faces and arms were littered with a litany of scars and bruises. Their angular faces were fixed in hard glares and stares, their teeth bared like angry wolves. All were decked in leather armor.  
Sportacus, subconsciously, shrunk into himself. Never in his life had he felt so small and helpless.  
“Wait, everyone! Don’t hurt him! He killed the dragon and saved my life!” said Ziggy as he shoved past Sportacus.  
The hulking warriors’ eyes widened, and their weapons lowered.  
“Let me through!” shouted a deep voice in the back.

The warriors sheepishly parted as the owner of the voice stepped forward and good _gods_ he made the other men look like rabbits in comparison.  
The man was imposingly built, nearly seven feet tall, his arms like tree trunks and his chest broad like a door. His hair, a pale blonde, was shaved at the sides and what remained was tied into a short ponytail. All of it was matched with a bushy, blonde beard. A long scar cut down his right eye, highlighting the scrutinizing glare in his remaining eye. Casually propped against his shoulder was a Warhammer that must’ve been as long as Sportacus was tall.  
The man leaned forward and stared at Sportacus.  
Sportacus had never wanted to sink into the earth more than he did that moment.  
“Is it true? You’re the warrior who saved my beloved son’s life?”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. This brick wall of a human was that boy’s _father_?!  
“Y-Yes sir.” He answered meekly.  
The man frowned, his eyebrows sinking low. He hummed and looked him over, his fingers stroking his beard.  
“Such a small man really took down a dragon?” He muttered to himself.  
“He’s a titchy morsel of a man, Kilgrim. He couldn’t have saved Ziggy.” Remarked one warrior.  
Sportacus frowned at the comment.  
Kilgrim glanced down at his son with a softer gaze.  
“Ziggy, this is him? This is really the man who saved you?” He asked.  
“Of course, papa! I would never lie!” Ziggy contested.  
Kilgrim nodded.  
“Then there’s only one thing I can do …” He said, his attention snapping back to Sportacus.

Sportacus squeaked and shut his eyes, preparing for the worst.

What he received, instead, was the most bone crushing, spine splitting bear hug he’d ever received in his life.

Kilgrim uttered a belly laugh that shook the ground. The other warriors cheered and hollered, with many clanging their weapons against their wide shields.  
Sportacus’s eyes were near bulging at the strength of the hug, his face slowly turning blue from the lack of oxygen.  
“Oh ho ho! What a wonderful man you are! You saved my beloved son from that nasty beast!” said Kilgrim who grinned a wide grin as he finally set Sportacus down.  
Sportacus, now free of the vice-like hug, breathed in deeply and exhaled. He barely got a moment to recover, however, as Kilgrim laid a hard slap against his back which nearly pitched him forward.  
“We are in your debt, brave warrior! Brave, uh…uh…” said Kilgrim.  
“S-S-Sportacus.” Sportacus wheezed.  
“A brave name indeed!” laughed Kilgrim as he picked up Sportacus. “Come with us! We must celebrate at once!”  
Kilgrim turned to his warriors.  
“Come along! The beer and mead will flow like the Whitetooth river tonight, and the best meats will be served! We are celebrating the rescue of our dearest Ziggy, and the bravery of this brother from another land!” announced Kilgrim.  
The warriors shouted and cheered. Ziggy was propped onto the shoulder of one warrior as another warrior fetched Loftskip.

All the while, Sportacus dazedly looked at Robbie, who’d elected to remain quiet for the whole exchange.  
He thought it was probably for the better, given he had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In short: Sportacus fights off a dragon by going super-sayan/avatar state while Ziggy watches in awe.
> 
> I said in a note on the last chapter that it'd be a while for the next one, but NOW it'll be a bit for the next chapter. I've worked out some plot details but it'll just be a bit for the next update. Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. The Feast

The merry group of warriors walked for what seemed like hours. All the while, Kilgrim continued to carry Sportacus in his arms so effortlessly it was like he was holding a pile of pillows and not another man.

As comfy as it was, Sportacus couldn’t help but feel a little awkward being carried in such a fashion. Thus, he barely said a word for the first part of the journey, rather he listened to the bellowing conversations and hearty laughter emanating from the cheery group.  
They only slowed for a while to collect their horses, which were tied up to a tall pine tree.  
Bless Loftskip’s heart, but the poor mare looked like a pony compared to the warriors’ gargantuan steeds.  
If Sportacus hadn’t felt as tired as he did, he might’ve quipped something about being able to see his house once Kilgrim mounted his own steed, a chestnut stallion that must’ve stood over twenty hands high.  
He wondered if the earth shook when these horses trotted or cantered, much less galloped.  
As he continued to lay awkwardly in the burly warrior’s arms, his mind growing hazy as the rhythmic trotting bounced and rocked him, Kilgrim finally cleared his throat and redirected his one good eye to him.  
“Comfy there, lad? No worries, you’re welcome to sleep.” He said with a smile.  
Sportacus quickly sat himself up.  
“N-No thanks, I’ll be okay.” He said.  
Kilgrim quirked an eyebrow up.  
“Everything alright there? You seem as jumpy as a frightened squirrel.” He asked.  
“Oh, no I’m fine. I’m, uh, just…” Sportacus fumbled as he crossed his arms.  
Kilgrim looked at him curiously. A look crossed his eye and he smirked as he chuckled lowly.  
“Ah, I see. Ain’t seen a lot quite like us, yeah? A little on the towering side for your taste?” He asked cheekily.  
Sportacus chuckled nervously.  
“Well, perhaps I could say it’s a little intimidating…” He said.  
“I’ll say it. You’re intimidating Sportakook here. You could probably snap him in half with a sneeze.” Remarked Robbie.  
“Robbie!” Sportacus scolded, shooting his weapon a nervous look.  
Much to both their surprise, Kilgrim only barked out a deep laugh.  
“Indeed I could! You are very right there, magic sword. But, have no fear lad. You’re in the company of new friends who wouldn’t dare think of harming a hair on your head.” He said.

Kilgrim stretched his back and sighed.  
“But I understand your initial apprehension lad, we’re not quite like the lot you’ve probably seen. The people of my village are what you might call the last of the crop’s cream. While the rest of our brethren grew fat, soft, content and lazy in the capitals and kingdoms, we upheld the ways of the Goddesses’ time. That’s what we credit to our no doubt impressive strength and size.” He said with an air of pride.  
“Impressive is right.” Sportacus noted quietly as he glanced down at his own body, his own muscles paling in comparison, like a twig to a log.  
Kilgrim noticed this, and the air of pride faded.  
“Now don’t give yourself that eye. I know that look, it’s a look of discontent and I won’t see a bit of that. In my village’s history, we admired the elves as much as your kind admired us. You see, we both followed the will of the Goddess in our own way. We followed the living conditions and communities she laid for the first humans; the elves upheld her legends and moral codes. Besides, elves like yourself are rumored to be so agile as to leap over mountains. We warriors would be lucky to get over the first rock, let alone the whole bloody thing!” Kilgrim said, grinning a toothy grin at the last part.  
Sportacus’s cheeks turned slightly pink as he chuckled.  
“Well, we’re not quite _that_ agile, but we are pretty spritely indeed.” He said.  
“That’s the spirit. Be proud! Your kind has done well the last I heard. Course that was told to me by my father, the last leader of the village. And he heard it from the leader before him. And that leader heard it from the leader before her…” He said, continuing on for several seconds.  
Kilgrim paused, then looked at Sportacus.  
“It’s been a while, most likely.” Noted Sportacus. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of your village until now.”  
Kilgrim nodded sagely.  
“Yes, I had heard that the elves had fallen silent some time ago. No one knows why, and I see that you aren’t sure either.”  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“Ah well, that’s all in the past. It’s the now that matters most of all.” Kilgrim said with a shrug as he looked in front of him.

The warrior’s eyes lit up and a wide grin filled his face.  
“Ah ha! We made it home boys! Mead and venison await us!” He cheered.  
He looked down at Sportacus.  
“Welcome to Dragonshelm!”  
The mighty band of warriors bellowed and roared out joyous cries. A few started a string of ancient sounding shanties and tunes as Kilgrim snapped the reigns of his horse, the cluster rocketing to the wooden gates of the village.

Dragonshelm was built much like the ancient villages, mostly of wood, brick, and hay. It laid in the middle of a grassy field, surrounded by streams and small ponds that created a makeshift moat of sorts filled with clean water. Within the fenced area were a number of small houses that formed a semi-circle formation around a much larger building built entirely of wood and bone. It was shaped like an upturned warship, with its “mast” carved into the head of a dragon. Plumes of smoke from firepits and blacksmith’s shops furled up into the sky and was the only blemish on this otherwise idyllic scene.  
The wooden gates of the village creaked open as the warriors barreled inside. The group’s cheers were met with a similarly raucous chorus of cheers from the villagers inside. While some were dressed in the same leather armor, others were dressed in far simpler outfits of wool and animal pelt.  
Kilgrim pulled the reigns of his horse and triumphantly pumped his Warhammer, eliciting louder cheers from the villagers.  
“Now listen here! We have a special celebration for tonight!” Kilgrim stated loudly.  
The villagers immediately quieted down.  
“My dear son, my beloved little Ziggy, was just rescued by a brave outsider. Show your thanks to our newest friend and bravest of souls, Sportacus!” He said, lowering his Warhammer and instead hoisting Sportacus up like a freshly caught fish.  
The villagers’ cheers grew once more and were accompanied by the stamping of feet, the clapping of hands, and the pounding of tools and weapons.  
Sportacus, meanwhile, had never felt so mortified. He waved awkwardly at the cheering villagers before he was abruptly lowered.  
“As we are celebrating, that means we’ll all need to come together to prepare food and libations for our feast tonight! Has anyone seen my gracious, beautiful, and radiant wife?” Kilgrim asked, looking about.  
“I think she’s due to return from her hunt!” piped up one villager.

“We have returned!”  
The group turned about back towards the gates just in time to witness the latest cavalcade storm the gates with wild abandon.  
Sportacus could barely believe his eyes.  
The group, all on horseback with similarly gigantic horses, rode in cheering and whooping, with six beautiful deer carcasses strung up between and on the backs of some of the horses. All of the warriors bore bows, spears, axes, swords, and other implements of destruction, all stained with a healthy smattering of blood.  
The leader of this group came to a halt upon their black steed. Their hands, caked in blood, lifted to remove the intricately crafted helmet that they wore, unleashing a cascade of long, ash blonde hair.  
The warrior looked up, and her icy blue eyes pierced Sportacus’s very soul. Her face, much like Kilgrim’s, was dotted with scars and cuts which brought a terror to her visage. Her gaze was fierce, but not violent. She grinned a wide grin, toothy and proud.  
Sportacus wondered if these were the earthly incarnations of the Valkyries of myth.  
As Sportacus stared in stunned silence, Kilgrim’s expression melted to one of warm reverence.  
“My beloved Valda, your hunt was successful I presume?” He asked in a softer tone.  
Valda dismounted and patted her steed’s nose.  
“It was satisfactory. One buck put up a wonderful fight, but ah these herds are growing feeble! At one time I could wrestle these beasts for an hour, yet now they yield in half that! It disappoints me, my dear.” She said, meeting up with Kilgrim and kissing him on the cheek.  
Sportacus looked back down at the ground.  
Valda stepped back and quirked an eyebrow as she finally noticed Sportacus.  
“Kilgrim, why do you have a tiny man in your arms?” She asked.  
Sportacus looked up to meet her eyes, his face reddening in embarrassment.  
Kilgrim lifted Sportacus up higher.  
“This, my dear, is Sportacus. He saved our dear Ziggy’s life from a dragon’s grasp. He is a friend to us all!” He said.  
“H-Hello.” Sportacus said nervously.  
“Hello.” She said, before looking up at her husband. “Kilgrim, darling, it might be best to put our new friend down now. He’s a grown man, he can walk.”  
“Oops! Of course, my apologies Sportacus.” Kilgrim said, finally setting Sportacus down on terra firma.

Sportacus stumbled a bit as he worked to regain his balance, his legs slightly numb after being held for so long. Once he finally stabilized himself, he dared to look back up at Valda.  
Good _gods_ she was as tall as her husband, if not taller. Not only that, but she was as _built_ as her husband too.  
And as he soon noticed, so was everyone else to varying degrees.  
Scratch earlier, _now_ he’d never felt so small before in his life.  
“So, Sportacus, you were the one who slayed the dragon? That’s quite a feat; how did you do it?” asked Valda with genuine curiosity.  
Sportacus cleared his throat and collected himself.  
“Well, it’s hard to explain, but I just felt this power grow within me. I-I believe it might’ve come from my armor here. It’s the chestplate of the Blessed Goddess.”  
Valda’s eyes widened.  
“The Blessed Goddess’s armor??” She asked.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“It began to glow and, I guess, I was able to fight the dragon easily. At least, that’s what your son told me. I, uh, don’t remember any of it.” He admitted softly.  
Valda tapped her chin and hummed. She gently rapped her blood-stained knuckles against the armor, earning a _ping_ sound in response.  
“Hmm, it’s unlike any metal I’ve ever seen. If it is truly the Goddess’s work, which I believe it is, then that makes sense.” She noted to herself thoughtfully.  
She paused, then smiled warmly at Sportacus.  
“I must say, you’re in the possession of some wonderful power. To slay a dragon with so little effort is not a small feat. You are quite a warrior.” She said.  
“Quite! A fantastic, brave, and noble warrior with a lion’s heart!” Laughed Kilgrim as he slapped Sportacus on the back, which sent the poor elf sprawling onto the ground.

Sportacus crawled back onto his knees and coughed harshly. He clutched his chest as his shirt gaped, showing off some of the bandages from his earlier fights.  
Valda’s expression fell.  
“Friend Sportacus! You’re hurt!” She exclaimed, which earned a series of concerned murmurs from the other villagers.  
“I-It’s okay, most of those are old. I’m healing up quite nice – EEP!” Sportacus started but stopped as he felt himself be lifted by the back of his armor, eliciting the yelp.  
He looked over sheepishly once he realized Valda was holding him up by only three fingers. She looked him over with concern before shooting a look at her husband.  
“Kilgrim! Didn’t you think to check our friend for injuries before you went parading around and tossing him about?” She asked.  
Kilgrim’s expression fell and was replaced with a look of embarrassment, matched with red cheeks.  
“I don’t believe I did! My apologies dear, I got caught up in the celebration.” He said.  
Valda sighed and shook her head.  
“Ay, Kilgrim! Always distracted!” She said wearily.  
She looked over at her fellow female warriors.  
“One of you, make haste to the Healing Hall! Tell Lyrica and the others to prepare the healing water and flower essences! And tell her not to spare our nicest oils and incense! This is an honored guest we’re treating!” She stated seriously.  
One warrior, a woman with chestnut hair, nodded and ran off towards the western half of the village.

“I’ll bring you to Lyrica and the others. Trust me, they work magic with their healing salves and formulas. You’ll be healthy by the end of the day!” Valda said proudly as she hoisted Sportacus onto her shoulder.  
Sportacus went _oomph_ as he was rather unceremoniously tossed onto the warrior’s shoulder, his face facing behind her and towards Kilgrim and the others.  
“Just a moment dear, we mustn’t forget his faithful sword!” said Kilgrim as he ran up and pulled Robbie from his sheath.  
Valda nodded.  
“A good idea! Take it to our blacksmith to get it polished up and fixed of any cracks and breaks. You’ll both be good as new just in time for the feast!” said Valda before she continued to walk away.  
“ _Help_.” Robbie whispered as he was carried away.  
“Oh don’t be dramatic. Go enjoy your spa day.” Said Sportacus with a wink, feeling the most amusement he’d felt since arriving.  
“You’ll pay! I’ll make you pay!” shouted Robbie back as he was taken around the corner.

Sportacus smirked and chuckled as he was carried by Valda through a set of drapes and into the Healing Hall.

\--

If Robbie had arms to cross and a face to scrunch into a mighty pout, he would’ve.

Instead he settled for shooting a harsh and enraged stare at the door, his gaze never diverting to the room around him. He didn’t want to potentially distract himself from his still simmering temper.  
He heard a duo of voices laughing and chattering down the hall, joined by a third, more familiar voice.  
The door swung open, and Robbie’s non-visible glare grew deeper.  
Sportacus was gently led into the room by two towering women. Both of their hair, honey blonde in color, were tied back in braids and decorated with fresh flowers. They were both dressed the most casually in simple dresses with sashes.  
“Now, I must ask Sportacus, are you feeling better?” asked the first woman, her gaze slightly flirtatious, though Sportacus didn’t seem to notice.  
“Oh yes! I’ve never felt so relaxed in my life!” He said with a smile.  
“Well, if you are still feeling sore, don’t hesitate to stop on by. Trust us, we’ll be more than happy to treat you again.” Said the other woman with a smile.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Thank you Helga, I really appreciate it.”  
“Tah tah, Sportacus. We’ll see you at the feast!” said the first woman as she exited the room.  
“Now don’t go fighting anymore dragons before that!” commented Helga cheekily as she ruffled Sportacus’s now extremely fluffy hair once more before she exited as well.  
Sportacus waved to them and paused as he heard them talk in the hallway.

“Why don’t we get more elves? They’re so cute!”  
“Oh Greta, you really are shameless.”  
“Tell me I’m wrong, Helga! Oh, I hope Sportacus comes back by.”  
“You want him to get hurt again?”  
“No…but yes?”  
“Oh Greta…”

Sportacus chuckled and shook his head, his cheeks flushed a slight pink.

“So, I see you had a great time.” Said Robbie bitterly.

Sportacus finally turned to look at his weapon.  
“I might’ve. How was your spa day?” He asked teasingly.  
“Oh gee, I don’t know. Just got dipped in heated coals for several minutes, was hit hundreds of times with a rusty hammer, and got pressed against a grinder. How do you _think_ my day was??” Robbie said pointedly.  
Sportacus winced sympathetically.  
“Well, I see they polished you at least? That must’ve been pleasant?”  
“Wasn’t much consolation for the earlier stuff.” Robbie grumbled as his blade sparkled.  
Sportacus chuckled and walked over.  
“Just think of how we’re even. I got my desserts, and it was your turn next.” He said, slumping down next to the sword.  
“So you get some mild jabbing and teasing, and I get whacked several times with a superheated hammer? Hmm, something about that doesn’t sound fair.” Robbie said sarcastically.  
“See? Equal.”  
“SUPERHEATED. HAMMER.”  
“You complain too much.” Sportacus said jokingly as he folded his arms behind his head.  
“I hate you so much.” Robbie muttered.

They both sighed wearily as they fell silent.

“You smell like lavender.” Robbie noted.  
Sportacus opened his eyes and quirked an eyebrow.  
“You can tell?”  
“You smell like a whole _bush_ of lavender, of course I can tell.” Robbie noted.  
Sportacus smirked.  
“They did go a little crazy on the essences.”  
“You know that’s not a compliment, right?” said Robbie.  
“What?”  
“That’s code word for you smelling like a mud-stained pig.” Robbie said with an audible smirk.  
“Oh stop. No, it does not.” Sportacus said, rolling his eyes.  
“And what makes you think I’m wrong?”  
“Well…that’s too mean, and those ladies were very nice.”  
“Polite, not necessarily nice. Wouldn’t you at least be polite to the guy who singlehandedly slew a dragon?” Robbie prodded.  
“Oh, knock it off. I don’t need to listen to this.” Sportacus said as he shifted to his side, away from Robbie.

They fell quiet again for several minutes.

“Speaking of slaying a dragon, about that. Do you have any idea about what happened?”  
Sportacus looked over his shoulder.  
“You mean the glowing?”  
“I mean what else would I be thinking of?”  
“Fair.” Sportacus said, nodding. “I still don’t know. It’s all still a blur.”  
“Same here.” Robbie noted disappointedly.  
“I mean,” Sportacus started, shifting back over to face Robbie. “I do remember what I was thinking about right before that.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yeah.” Sportacus said. “I was worried. I was thinking about Ziggy and didn’t want to him to get hurt. I was angry that that dragon had the gall to actually hurt a child. I decided that no matter what I would save his life and keep him safe.”  
Sportacus’s eyes had drifted to the floor. Once he finished, his gaze flitted back up to Robbie, who’d remained quiet.  
“That’s funny.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus furrowed his brow and frowned.  
“What?”  
“Not funny like that.” Robbie groaned. “I meant…I was thinking about the same thing.”  
The frown vanished from Sportacus’s face and was replaced with a surprised expression.  
“Really?”  
“Oh come on, Sportadummy. I’m a jerk, but I didn’t want the kid to get hurt either. When that dragon slapped him aside I was furious. If you were knocked out I probably would’ve flung myself and tried to stab the dragon in the eye.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus smirked.  
“What?” Robbie asked, his frown audible.  
“You _do_ care! You do have a soft side.” Sportacus said.  
“What?! Of course, I saved your – “Robbie started, before stopping. “I-I mean no! No, it’s just an exception and, and…don’t give me that _look_!”  
Sportacus chuckled and crossed his arms.  
“You know, we decided on a fresh start and all you’ve done is give me grief. Not cool. I won’t take this treatment.” Robbie stated.  
“Well you make it pretty easy, Robbie.” Sportacus said.  
“See? There you go again!”  
Sportacus laughed, his eyes crinkling.

The two sat back after Sportacus stopped laughing.  
“Well, at least we have a hint. Seems like we were both thinking of the same thing when that…’light’ took over.” Sportacus said.  
“So, what, we have to feeling the exact same thing to get that magic power-up? Sounds like we won’t be seeing it that often then.”  
“Well, maybe not feeling the exact same thing. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a goal thing? Admittedly we don’t have much evidence to go off right now.” Sportacus said with a shrug.  
“True. I do love when deities give amazing powers with super vague conditions. Not like the world needs to be saved or anything.” Robbie said sarcastically.  
Sportacus laughed.  
“Yeah, I honestly would like some more hints too.” He said. “I guess we’ll figure it out with practice.”  
“That sounds like work.”  
“Well…of course.”  
Robbie then started a long, drawn out groan as the sword slumped to the floor.  
Sportacus shook his head and laughed.

A light knock rapped out against the door.

“Come in!” said Sportacus.  
The door creaked open and Ziggy popped his head in.  
“Sportacus! Robbie! The feast is ready! I hope you’ve brought your appetites!” He said eagerly.  
“I’m a weapon, I literally can’t eat.” Robbie said sourly.  
Sportacus gave him a short look before smiling at Ziggy.  
“We have! I’m definitely hungry!”  
“I hope so! The scullery team cooked up a storm!” Ziggy said as he pushed the door open wider.  
Sportacus followed the young boy out of the room with Robbie back in his sheath.  
He looked down at Robbie and began to wonder about his weapon.  
“I can leave you in the room if you’d prefer.” Sportacus said.  
“Nope. I’m coming whether you like it or not.”  
“I was thinking about your comfort, Robbie.”  
“Oh.” Robbie said, sounding slightly surprised. “Well, either way, I’m coming along.”  
“Alright then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” Said Sportacus.  
Robbie made a small noise in response.

\--

The grand hall’s banquet room was a marvel of wood carving and architectural prowess, one that instantly brought Sportacus’s mind back to his beloved stories from his childhood. The wood, warmly stained, was shaped in an arched formation with chandeliers made of bone hanging every second beam. The wall was accented with wood sculptures in the shapes of both mythical and wild animals, many bearing weaponry or flags. In the middle of the gigantic room was a lengthy table, clearly hand-carved and lovingly polished.  
By the time Sportacus and Ziggy had entered the room, the entire village was seemingly seated in the grand hall. Rows of weaponry and helmets lined the walls, each with markings and paints that signified their owners. At the head of the table sat Kilgrim and Valda, both sitting in the most impressive of the seats built with antler and oak wood. A third, smaller chair was positioned between them (clearly Ziggy’s) with another chair off to the left of Kilgrim.  
“That’s your seat!” gestured Ziggy excitedly.  
Sportacus nodded, the scene slightly overwhelming him. His feelings of being overwhelmed would only grow once he took another step into the dining hall. One of the warriors noticed him and started elbowing his neighbor, who in turn elbowed his neighbor. A circular series of elbowing led the entire seated party to go silent and turn towards Sportacus with expectant yet reverent gazes.  
Sportacus’s face began to burn.  
“Um…good evening, everyone.” He finally said, hoping to break the silence.  
Kilgrim smiled supportively and stood to his feet. He walked over and clapped Sportacus on the back.  
“Good evening! You are looking far more rested! I trust the Healing Hall was good?” He asked.  
Sportacus smiled and nodded.  
“Wonderful!” Kilgrim said before turning and pushing Sportacus ahead of him gently. “Everyone! I’d like to introduce you all once again to the hero of the hour: our respected, honored, and magnificent Sportacus of Alfenheim!”

The warriors in the hall whooped and cheered. They banged the table with their empty tankards and stomped their feet in appreciation.

“I imagine you’ve heard it plenty today, Sportacus, but we truly owe you our gratitude. You saved my son from an early and horrible fate. Thus, you will always be recognized as an honorary brother within Dragonshelm!” Kilgrim stated proudly.  
The warriors cheered once more, crying out in a single voice:  
“Cheers to Brother Sportacus, dragon slayer!”  
Sportacus’s cheeks pinked and he smiled a lop-sided smile.  
“I-I don’t know what to say! Thank you! It really was nothing, I can’t leave a child in danger.”  
“Well, we certainly don’t see your act as nothing. Come! We’re all starving, so let the feast begin!” Kilgrim stated, leading Sportacus to his chair beside him.

With that, several other warriors marched out of the kitchen carrying gigantic platters absolutely covered with racks of beautiful, sizzling meat, the bounty produced from Valda’s hunt. Other platters were also brought out filled with delectable vegetables, carefully cooked starches, shining and colorful fruits, and of course sugary and honey-slathered sweets and pastries. A third group of warriors heaved onto the table humongous jugs and bottles filled with amber colored liquid that hissed and popped once their corks were removed.  
The table was soon abuzz with energy as the warriors made swift work of tearing their own portions of meat and other delectable eats while filling their tankards to the brim with beer or mead. Beards became filled with foam as they drank and ate with gusto, many clinking tankards and cheering their fulfilling and plentiful lives.  
At the head of the table, Sportacus and Ziggy’s family were eager though not with the same boundless energy as the rest of Kilgrim’s cohorts. Sportacus’s plate was stacked for him with meats, veggies, a glob of mashed potatoes, and a few select fruits. He gaped at the pile; he’d never even considered eating such a gigantic portion, much less _attempted_ such an act. Yet that seemed to be the average portion as he watched Kilgrim make a plate for his wife and a (slightly) more reasonable plate for Ziggy.  
He took his first bite of venison and was immediately dazzled at the rich, savory, yet slightly gamey flavors threaded into each bit of meat. He soon followed it with bites of creamy potatoes and crunchy vegetables which, with their delicious and extraordinary flavors, soon sent him joining the feeding frenzy in spite of himself.  
He only stopped once the jug of beer was slid in his direction.  
“Oh, um, thank you, but I don’t think I can drink this.” He said sheepishly, feeling embarrassed at having to reject a kind offering.  
“Ah, no worries lad, I was aware of this already.” Kilgrim said before he gestured towards another warrior.  
Sportacus quirked an eyebrow until the warrior returned. He was holding a metal pitcher in his hands.  
“I know about elves’ sugar sensitivity, but I also know that there’s something that elves enjoy instead.” Kilgrim stated with a smirk.  
Sportacus watched as the warrior filled his tankard. The liquid was a cream color with a thread of amber swirling in it.  
“Is that… _cream_?” asked Sportacus, his ears wiggling in anticipation.  
“With a bit of honey, since I know that’s the one sweet thing elves can eat.” Valda added with a wink.  
Sportacus stared at the tankard with wide eyes that twinkled.  
“What’s the matter, lad? You’re acting like you’ve never seen cream before.” Asked Kilgrim.  
“I-I have, but…never this _much_. Cream is a little expensive back at home and I couldn’t afford it really.” He said.  
“Well, drink up! That is all for you!” Valda said encouragingly.  
Sportacus felt his heart lift at the kind gesture. He took his first gulp of the sweet liquid.

Pure fireworks; that’d be the only way to describe the taste and sensory experience that Sportacus received. It left his mind reeling and his heart fluttering as he tried to comprehend the beautiful liquid he’d consumed.

He set the tankard down slowly and took a moment a pause.  
Then, he took another healthy gulp of the cream.  
“I cannot guide your drinking, but I’ll still warn you lad. That cream is powerful stuff for an elf like you.” Kilgrim said with chuckle.  
Sportacus stopped part way through his third gulp and hiccupped. He gave a slightly sheepish look to Kilgrim and nodded.  
“S-Sorry. I got caught up in the _*hic*_ taste. I-It’s delicious!” He said, a giggle escaping him.  
“Goodness, he’s a lightweight.” Valda commented quietly with a smirk.  
“Now, now Valda.” Kilgrim said gently with a small smile.  
Sportacus took some more bites of his food as a break. He looked over when he heard a smaller voice beside him.  
Ziggy was standing there gently poking at the jewel in his sword.  
“Ow…ow…ow…” Robbie said annoyedly.  
Sportacus chuckled quietly before he gently led the child back.  
“No need to poke him, he can see you.”  
Ziggy gave a silly smile.  
“Sorry! And sorry to you, Mr. Sword!” He said apologetically.  
“It’s Robbie.” Robbie grumbled.  
“Sorry Robbie!” said Ziggy as he ran back to his seat at his mother’s behest.

The feast continued, and more food was consumed. Sportacus polished his plate and surprised himself when he took a little more of the vegetables and venison. For some reason, this particular night had presented him with a far greater appetite. He drank more of the cream mixed with honey, his mind now a little foggy and giddy at this point.

Kilgrim beside him set down his tankard after finishing his fourth glass of beer.  
“So tell me, friend Sportacus, what brings you to these lands? You’re far from home, and you wear armor blessed by our beloved Goddess. What is your quest?” He asked in a more serious tone.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and he slowly pushed away his tankard. Despite his reddened face, his expression grew far more serious.  
“When I was at the Kingdom of Meanswell, I was presented with the Blessed Chestplate of the Light Goddess, which responded to me and fit me perfectly. Lord Meanswell believes that this means I’m the one destined to destroy The Darkness as per the prophecy. So, I’ve set out to find the other four pieces of armor, so I can fight and hopefully defeat The Darkness once and for all.” He explained, his eyes drifting down to the floor.  
Kilgrim’s expression remained unwavered, and he nodded sagely.  
“Ay, that is a great quest you’ve taken. Or, should I say, a great quest bestowed upon you. If you destroy The Darkness, I know my village and I will be forever grateful.”  
He sat back in his chair and sighed.  
“The Darkness has brought great pain to my collection of warrior friends. The damned thing has ruined many of our greatest hunting grounds. It consumed the deer and left only carcasses behind, while also eating away at the trees and bushes. Worse, though, is the lives it’s claimed.” He said, his gaze growing distant.  
Sportacus’s ears drooped.  
“…I’m sorry.” He said sadly.  
Kilgrim nodded.  
“A few friends no longer sit with us because of their valiant sacrifices. We mourn and remember their lives, but we fight on. It is what they would’ve wanted.” He noted, a tear welling in his eye.  
Sportacus’s face remained low as he glanced down at his chest, where his armor would’ve rested. He clutched at his shirt and stared at it thoughtfully.  
“You seem troubled, friend. Is something the matter?” asked Kilgrim.  
Sportacus immediately released his shirt and looked up.  
“I, uh,” Sportacus started before pausing. “…sorry, I was thinking of something.”  
Kilgrim looked at him sympathetically.  
“Do you wish to speak about it, Sportacus?” He asked.  
Sportacus shook his head and gave a small smile.  
“No, this is supposed to be a celebration, right? It can wait.” He said.

“Well then,” said Kilgrim, clearing his throat and lifting his tankard. “let’s get another jug of beer! More libations! And more cream for our brother Sportacus!”  
The warriors cheered loudly, and Sportacus joined them with a half-smile.

\--

The moon hung high in the sky by the time the celebrations died out. The dining hall’s candles had burnt down to their bases, and the darkened room was filled with the snores of the slumbering warriors, all passed out at the table. The plates had been cleared away, but their scattered tankards still lay tipped over across the table and floor.  
Sportacus too had fallen asleep at his spot, his head laying gently atop his crossed arms.  
Kilgrim and Valda were the only two left awake. Kilgrim had just gathered Ziggy and was preparing to pick up the sleeping Sportacus.  
“I’ll take him to his room. You go ahead and tuck Ziggy in.” whispered Valda.  
“Alright. You won’t be long?” asked Kilgrim hopefully.  
“No worries, I won’t dawdle.” Said Valda with a smirk.  
Kilgrim grinned and walked down a back hallway with Ziggy cradled in his arms.  
Valda carefully picked up Sportacus and cradled him similarly, his sword dangling from her hold.

Once they left the dining hall and re-entered the side hallway, Valda cleared her throat.  
“So, magic sword, I hope you had a good time as well?” she asked quietly.  
Robbie hesitated at first, surprised to be addressed after being ignored for so long.  
“It seemed…fun. A banquet isn’t much fun when you can’t eat.” He said rather bluntly.  
Valda nodded sagely.  
“Yes, I suppose it wouldn’t. Perhaps when you are free we can feed you then.” She said thoughtfully.  
Robbie gave a self-deprecating laugh.  
“Why do you laugh?” asked Valda as she quirked her eyebrow.  
“You don’t know how long I’ve been stuck like this.” Robbie said with a sigh. “I’ll never be free at this rate.”  
“Oh?”  
Robbie sighed again.  
“I thought our encounter with the dragon would’ve done the trick, but I’m still trapped in this sword. What else could be done?”  
“Perhaps you’re still needed.” Said Valda thoughtfully as she creaked the door open. “Perhaps _he_ still needs you.”  
Robbie made a small grunt.  
“That wasn’t part of the original deal.” He grumbled. “The mages said serve a noble cause, then I’d be free. I must’ve done at _least_ three of those by now, if not a dozen.”

Valda set Sportacus gently onto the bed. She loosened the strap that held Robbie and his sheath to his side and set the sword down against the wall.  
“I cannot imagine how terrible it must be to be trapped like you are. I don’t know why you’re like this, but the way you speak conveys a pain, and nothing is so great that that’s what you deserve.” She said softly.  
“You’re too kind, really. I’ve accepted my fate, there’s no pain on my side.” Robbie noted with a wavering tone.  
“Even so,” said Valda as she reached for her pocket. “you still deserve some reward for the heroism you have partaken in.”  
From her pocket she pulled a slightly tattered, slightly ripped, pale blue ribbon.  
“I wore this ribbon when I was a young warrior, just about fifteen years old. That’s when I slayed my first water serpent by Lake Landross. I believe it’s given me great luck and protection.” Valda explained as she tore a lengthy piece off of it.  
Pulling Robbie up slightly, she carefully and tightly tied the ribbon to the end of the hilt.  
“It is no medal, but I believe this could be a fine reward for you. It’s given me luck, so hopefully it’ll give you luck and the perseverance to find your freedom.”  
Robbie paused and gazed upon the ribbon now hanging off him.  
“…Thank you.” He finally said. “I…I really do appreciate it.”  
Valda smiled and stood back up. As she walked towards the door, she paused and gestured towards Sportacus.  
“I know he will take care of you but be sure to take care of him as well. You’ll both need each other for the coming battle, and when you fight, you’re a part of him.” She said, before she walked out and shut the door quietly behind her.

Robbie turned to stare at the door as Valda left, his mind clouded with thoughts about her words and her gift. He only stopped when he heard Sportacus mumble behind him. He turned to see Sportacus turn over, his sheets slipping off the bed as he slept fitfully.  
Robbie sighed and turned himself over to face Sportacus.  
“So making sure you don’t die before you fight The Darkness might be my ticket to freedom?” He asked quietly before chuckling. “This’ll be tougher than I thought.”  
That was the last thing he said before he too drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kiddies, always drink responsibly.
> 
> So I'll admit that I was hesitant to post anything so soon after the passing of Stefan, as I was unsure if it'd be seen as disrespectful or too soon. But after seeing other people still posting, and having finished this chapter, I thought it'd be okay. It's a sillier chapter, and one I had a ton of fun writing, so I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> RIP Stefan Karl Stefansson, you were a talented man with a big heart, and I hope that you're resting easy now.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and always remember that life is now.


	9. The Nightmares

_Sportacus ran through the hallways of the castle as he chased after his favorite ball._

_His mother had told him to keep to the yard, but their yard was so tiny! How could his mom expect him to stay there and play all the games he liked to play?  
It was easier when he had his brother to play with him, but with Íþro always away with his knight training, he was short on playmates.  
So today, he was being a little rebel. He successfully leapt over his fence and chased after his ball throughout the streets.  
This, somehow, led him to run up and through the castle. He ran past beautiful and intricate tapestries depicting the battle between the Blessed Goddess of Light and the God of All-Consuming Darkness, the settlement of Alfenheim, and the first royal elven family. The guards paid him no mind as he skipped and ran through the hallways. His ball rolled faster as it was accidentally kicked by one of the many ladies in waiting down a side hallway. Sportacus skidded around the corner and sped down that hallway.  
He giggled and laughed as he ran. He jumped into a tuck and roll, after which he successfully snatched up his ball.  
He laughed and smiled as he bounced the ball in his grasp. He stood up and prepared to head out back the way he came. It was getting late and he knew his mother would be getting suspicious._

_“I hate to confirm Elder Johann’s suspicions, but the signs have been slowly growing apparent. The Darkness is returning, your highness.”_

_Sportacus stopped and quirked his ear up. He looked about and saw a door that was left partly open. Carefully he snuck up and peeked inside. The room was ornately decorated with gold shaped to look like tree branches with pale wood peeking between the leaves. A large table fashioned of maple wood with gold embellishments sat in the middle of this room. Surrounding the table were at least a dozen other elves, older elves, all dressed in opulent robes and sitting in chairs with high backs. Several guards were stationed around the room, their arms behind their backs and their gazes high and alert.  
Next to one guard that Sportacus recognized stood his brother, who looked rather official in his clothes emblazoned with the king’s crest.  
He nearly called out to his brother before one of the elves stood up and slammed his fists on the table.  
“Why are we wasting so much time deliberating the obvious? And my apologies, your highness, but why do you remain adamant about staying our hand for so long? The more time we waste, the more unprepared we remain for The Darkness’s return!”  
The king, a tall and spindly man with prominent cheek bones, sat up tall and glared down at the angered elder.  
“I advise you to hold your anger, Elder Bjartur. I only wish us to remain cautious out of fear of panicking the citizens. The plan to defend ourselves from The Darkness is a lengthy and wholly consuming one that doesn’t just concern my guards or our council. I don’t wish to spread panic unnecessarily.” He said calmly.  
“It’s understandable, your highness, but the signs are simply too present to ignore. The Darkness will present itself in the coming decade. Our field mages have their findings on ink and paper, and they match the prophecy Tiberius the Thoughtful presented to us hundreds of years ago. The time is now.” Elder Johann said with a raspy voice._

_The king sighed and sat back as he drummed his fingers against each other. He nodded.  
“Very well. I cannot deny what you all have found. Elder Máron, bring out the scroll of Tiberius. Read to us all where we can find our chosen hero.”  
Máron, a slightly pudgier man with a crop of sandy blonde hair, scurried over towards a tall bookshelf and removed an aged scroll. He rolled it out carefully on the table and scanned its contents.  
“The prophecy states that the chosen hero will be born in the city of Alfenheim at the end of the darkest winter. They will be born at the height of the moon’s rise, when its beams glint on the clouds.” He read aloud.  
“But what does that mean?” asked another elder.  
“It clearly means the hero was born on the last day of the darkest winter at midnight. Our darkest winter, the one with the longest and coldest nights, was almost a decade ago to this day.” Said Máron.  
Another elder, a smaller woman with her red hair in braids, ran to the bookshelf and pulled out a gigantic tome that was nearly bigger than she was. With a heave, she lifted and dropped it onto the table. She climbed atop one chair and opened the book. She flipped through the pages quickly before she stuck her finger upon a certain entry.  
“Here we are, the birth records of any individuals born on that day. Let’s see, it seems that the child was born in the Heather’s Fern district.”  
“A poorer district. Of course.” Sneered one elder.  
The king shot that elder a glare.  
“It seems the hero’s name is…” said the female elder, before she stopped, her face paling.  
“What’s the problem, Elder Freya?” asked the king.  
“There must be some sort of mistake.” She said nervously. “There were _ two _individuals born at the same time, from the same family. Twins.”_

_The elders talked uneasily amongst each other._

_“Well, who are they? Who are the twins?” asked the king impatiently.  
Elder Freya nodded.  
“The names of the twins…are Sportacus and Íþrottaálfurinn.” She stated.  
Sportacus gasped and stepped back. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he hid behind the door, avoiding the suspicious glance of the closest elder to him.  
Once the elder stopped looking around, Sportacus peeked through the door again. He could see his brother looking as startled as he was, his gaze up towards his knight.  
The knight seemed just as surprised, but he nonetheless pushed Íþro to look back ahead.  
“The prophecy stated nothing about twins.” Said the king dubiously.  
“Perhaps there are two chosen heroes? It could be a possibility.” Suggested an elder.  
“Absolutely **not**.” Said Elder Máron firmly. “Forgive me your majesty, but I have studied these scrolls for years. There is no possibility that both these boys could be the chosen hero. We’ll simply have to determine which of the boys is our hero and which isn’t.”  
“But _ how _will we do that?” asked another elder. “How would you determine such a thing?”  
“With the blessed dagger.” Said Elder Máron simply, holding up an ornate dagger with a golden hilt. “The prophecy states that the blessed armor will only respond to the chosen hero. We simply hand the dagger to the boys and whomever it responds to is our hero.”_

_The elders nodded to each other in agreement with the elder’s plan._

_“Very good. Then we’ll test the boys right away.” Said the king before he looked at the knight. “Sir Aron! Bring your page here.”  
Aron guided Íþro over to Elder Máron, who had crouched down to the boy’s level and, quite apparent to Sportacus, held the dagger with a considerable amount of concentration.   
As soon as Íþro was in front of him, Elder Máron held out the dagger to him. Sportacus thought he saw the dagger briefly flash a red color, but assumed he was seeing things.  
Íþro reached for the dagger with a shaking hand and lips thinned. He brushed some of his honey brown hair away from his face before he finally grabbed the dagger quickly.  
Instantly the dagger glowed a golden glow and hummed, which startled Íþro and the other elders.  
Sportacus watched with dazzled amazement.  
“That settles things!” stated Elder Máron as he clapped his hands together. “Your majesty, I present before you your chosen hero, Íþro of Heather’s Fern!”  
The elders clapped and cheered.  
“That seemed rather easy. Are you sure we shouldn’t test Sportacus as well?” asked Elder Freya suspiciously.  
Elder Máron shot her a cold glare that caused her to recoil.  
“Now Elder Máron, you know we cannot waste time with such things. The dagger responded to Íþro, so he’s our chosen hero. There’s no need for another test.” He said coolly.  
“I must agree with Elder Máron. Time is of the essence, and since the dagger responded to Íþro, he is our chosen hero.” Said the king as he sat forward in his throne.  
Íþro looked at the king nervously, the dagger still gripped in his hands, as the king gestured him forward. He walked over and knelt before the king.  
“From this day forth, Íþro, you will be recognized as the hero of our great land. Your training will begin immediately, and we will ensure your family is well taken care of. We’re counting on you and know that you will readily defeat such a horror.” The king stated in his formal manner._

_The elders clapped once more as Íþro nodded and stood back up._

_Sportacus watched with a quiet pride for his brother and clapped quietly from outside the room. He smiled and felt excited to talk to his brother later on that night about the news.  
Much to his surprise, however, the room began to grow quiet.  
The clapping ceased abruptly, and Sportacus soon found himself inside the meeting room.  
All the elders had vanished, leaving only him and Íþro in the room.  
His brother at first stood with his back to him before he slowly turned to face him.  
Sportacus cringed and took a step back; his brother’s gaze was foreign and cold.  
The boy stood with the dagger clenched in his fist. He closed his eyes and tilted his head down until his bangs covered his face.  
Sportacus watched in confusion until he noticed his brother start to glow.  
A second later, his brother was wearing the blessed chestplate.  
_ His _blessed chestplate.  
…right?  
“Íþro?” He asked uneasily. “What…?”_

_Íþro only shook his head, his cold gaze remaining.  
He then pulled his hand back, the one with the dagger.  
“Í-Íþro! Don’t!” Sportacus squeaked in fear as he threw his hands in front of him._

_Íþro simply glared at Sportacus, staring as if he didn’t even recognize him.  
“Thief. **Murderer**.” He whispered.  
He then threw the dagger, which spun straight at Sportacus’s forehead.  
All the young boy could do was gasp._

\--

Sportacus instantly shot up in his bed with a loud gasp.

He panted, sweat rolling down his forehead as his widened eyes looked about the room.  
The room was still dark and, apparent from the furs and wood paintings on the wall, he was clearly not back at home.  
The adrenaline-laced fear began to subside, and he took a deep breath.  
  
He exhaled.  
  
It was all just a dream.

Sighing, Sportacus slowly slid back down onto the mattress, his head hitting the pillow with a slight _thump_.  
He stared up at the ceiling as he waited for the adrenaline to leave him, his eyes feeling dry and slightly strained from the abrupt awakening.  
As he waited, he glanced over to his right and spotted Robbie.  
Robbie was laid gently against the wall, and he could hear a low snore rumble from him.  
A ragged blue ribbon was tied to his hilt, which caught Sportacus’s attention.  
He quirked an eyebrow and smiled. He wondered for a moment who gave it to him.  
“ _Well, it’s nice that he received a gift. I can’t imagine tonight was fun for him._ ” He thought.  
Next to Robbie he spotted the blessed chestplate.

This removed the smile from his face.  
He thought about his dream, and the image of his young brother holding the dagger flashed back into his mind.  
He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the image away, but it stuck, taunting him with its presence.  
He sighed and stared at the ceiling as the image danced about his mind.

He hoped for mercy from his last nightmare.

Mercy only came an hour later, when he finally, blessedly, fell back asleep.

\--

If each morning after cream felt like this, then Sportacus would swear off the cursed liquid for the _rest of his life_.

His head was pounding a rhythmic thumping that resonated to his ears and behind his eyeballs. It left him sensitive to the sunlight filtering through the skylight above him, and the thumping grew louder as he tried to force himself to open his eyes.  
His limbs and body felt slightly numb and tingly. His fingers dug at the sheets uncomfortably as he flexed his limbs to regain some energy to their dulled senses.  
His stomach was a topsy-turvy mess of nastiness that made him feel sore and uncomfortable. He groaned and pulled the sheets over his head. Only a few tufts of his blonde hair were visible outside the lump of blankets.  
The lump under the blankets rustled and shifted. He curled into himself.  
“Good morning, sunshine.” Robbie chirped.  
Sportacus grumbled.  
“How did you sleep? Well, I take it?” Robbie asked in a sweet tone.  
Sportacus mumbled again.  
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Robbie said with a proud chuckle.  
“I want to die.” Grumbled Sportacus.  
“No you don’t. Well, maybe you do right now, but it’ll pass. Just give it, oh, a few hours more or less.”  
Sportacus buried himself deeper into his blankets.  
“The longer you lay in there, the less you’re doing to make yourself feel better.” Robbie noted.  
“What am I supposed to do, Robbie?”  
“Well, when I _could_ drink, I used to eat the fattiest, most tasty food the next morning to make myself feel better.” Robbie mused longingly.  
Sportacus groaned and shook his head.  
“You asked for my opinion. I’m just trying to help.”  
“I-I know, it just…doesn’t sound good. Besides, I don’t eat fatty food.” Sportacus grumbled.

“Then maybe this will help you feel better!” chirped Ziggy as he pushed the door open.  
Sportacus rolled over in his bed and looked at the door with squinted eyes. He gave a small smile at the boy before he noticed what he was carrying.  
The tray was less a tray and more a slab of slightly sanded wood. However, atop this tray, laid a series of bowls that were filled with chopped fruit, cooked vegetables, scrambled eggs, and dry toast.  
Sportacus forced himself to sit up in bed as Ziggy carefully set the tray on the table next to him.  
“Good morning Mr. – er, I mean Robbie!” Ziggy said politely.  
Robbie hmphed.  
“Morning kid.” He said, faking disinterest.  
Ziggy chuckled and looked back at Sportacus.  
“My mom and dad figured you’d need something healthy for breakfast after last night, so we prepared all this for you.” He said.  
“Thank you. I think they’re right, this sounds like just what I need.” Sportacus said as he took a careful sip of water.  
“Oh, and once you’re done with that, my dad wanted to speak with you. I think he’s waiting for you in the history room. It’s just to the left of the banquet hall.” Ziggy said.  
“Oh? What for?”  
Ziggy shrugged.  
“My dad didn’t say why, but I think it’s something important.” He responded.  
“Ah.” Sportacus said, eating his first grape. “Well, if it’s not too much to ask, could you let your father know that I’ll be there in half an hour? I should be ready by then.”  
“Of course!” said Ziggy excited as he skipped out the door.  
He stopped.  
“Oh, and, uh, just let me know if you need anything else!” He said.  
Sportacus gave a thankful wave as the youth vanished around the corner.

Sportacus continued eating his breakfast as he sat in bed. He ate at a steady pace to avoid upsetting his stomach. He’d have to admit that the first few bites were somewhat painful, but by the time he polished off the eggs he was starting to feel at least a little more like himself.  
He glanced back down at his armor and stopped, the sickness returning to his stomach.  
He averted his eyes and kept eating. He took a few larger bites just to preoccupy himself.  
“So, how was the food last night?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus paused and swallowed his last bite of food.  
“It was delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.” He said with a small smile.  
“Hmm, sounds nice.” Robbie noted softly.  
Sportacus stopped and set down his utensils.  
“Did, um, did you have a favorite food? Or, uh sorry, do you _have_ a favorite food?” He asked.  
“Cake.” Robbie answered without hesitation.  
“Oh?” Sportacus said, his eyebrows raising. “Um, any specific type of cake?”  
Robbie hummed.  
“Chocolate.” He said longingly. “Oh, I miss chocolate cake. Gooey, decadent, so sweet and spongy; it’s heaven on a plate. My mother used to make the most delicious chocolate cake.”  
Sportacus gave a small smile.  
“You do make it sound wonderful. Wish I could actually eat something like that.” He said.  
“I do too. Your existence must be hell. I can’t imagine dying if I tasted even a crystal of sugar.” Robbie said.  
“It’s not _that_ bad. It just knocks me out. It’s like being asleep, just, well, worse.”  
“And that’s _better_ than dying?”  
“You wake up from it, so yes.”  
“I suppose so.”  
“Suppose so?”  
“Yes. Don’t question my logic.”  
Sportacus chuckled and shook his head.

Sportacus finished his breakfast a bit later and hopped out of bed. He soon regretted that action as his stomach turned.  
“I thought I’d feel better after breakfast.” He groaned as he held his stomach.  
“It’s sadly not that simple. Time is best medicine in this case.”  
“Very wise.” Sportacus said.  
“Hey what’ya know, I know things. Surprised?”  
“No, that’s not what I meant by that.” Sportacus said, rolling his eyes.  
“I know, but I’m still going to rib you. Have fun with your meeting.”  
“I’m bringing you with me.” Sportacus said, picking up Robbie.  
“And the armor? You’re wearing it, right?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus hesitated and glanced at the chestplate. Robbie noticed how a worried crease formed on his face, which vanished once Sportacus looked back at him.  
“Um, I’ll get it later. I don’t believe Kilgrim wants to spar so I’ll collect it afterwards. No need to be overdressed!” Sportacus said with a slightly forced laugh.

Robbie wanted to say something more, but before he could they were out the door. And given the determined and focused look on Sportacus’s face, Robbie decided to hold his tongue once more.

He could ask him about it later, once they found out what Kilgrim wanted.

\--

The door to the history room was already propped open when Sportacus arrived. He gently opened the door and peered inside, taking in the view.  
The room, in comparison to the near rustic design of the rest of the village, was the most pristine location in the entire town. The room was filled with wooden shelves that were, in themselves, filled with papers, tomes, and different bags and baskets. Kilgrim was bent over a table that held another bag atop of it made of leather.  
“Good morning?” said Sportacus.  
Kilgrim sharply turned around and beamed warmly at the elf.  
“Ah, morning Sportacus! I trust you slept well?” He asked.  
“Well, for the most part yes. I heard you wanted to see me?” asked Sportacus.  
Kilgrim nodded.  
“Yes, I do. Please, close the door behind you. As much as I hate to say this, this is a serious matter for our ears only.”   
Sportacus’s eyes widened and he nodded. He gently closed the door, eclipsing the two in the darkness only broken by a single lantern.

Kilgrim gestured Sportacus over towards him, which Sportacus complied to.  
“I had a feeling about you as soon as I saw your armor. Once you said last night that it was _the_ blessed armor of our Goddess, I remembered something a former leader mentioned years ago.” He said as he rustled through the bag.  
Sportacus watched quietly.  
“You see, many years ago, we came into the possession of several treasures from a bandit group we bested. Much of it was standard gold and jewels, but something caught our leader’s attention.” Said Kilgrim.  
He nodded as he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the object from the bag: a pair of rusted, dully colored, gauntlets.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“Now I must say it was a struggle to hold onto these things for so long. Many of our people thought they were garbage and wanted to dispose of them or, worse, melt them down into scrap. But the leader was adamant we kept it. So, we did, and now I’m so glad we did with you here!” said Kilgrim as he presented the gauntlets to Sportacus.  
Sportacus grinned uneasily and glanced down at the gauntlets.  
“O-Oh! Thank you. I-I bet these will help me in the fight with the Darkness.” He said.  
Kilgrim looked at him confusedly.  
“Aren’t you gonna slip them on?” He asked.  
“Of course! Later, though.”  
“But don’t you want to make sure they’re genuine? I know some fakes circulated for a time, and shouldn’t we be sure?” asked Kilgrim.  
“I-I suppose?” Sportacus relented.  
“Then slip them on! I’m excited to see how they look in their glory.” Kilgrim said, grinning.  
Sportacus sighed and nodded.  
“Alright, here I go.” He said, praying in his mind as he slipped on the rusted gloves.

At first, nothing happened. Sportacus began to thank the Goddess that perhaps the chestplate was a fluke, and the gauntlets wouldn’t respond to him.

Then, the hum filled the room, and the darkness was evaporated by the bright, golden light that shot out from the gauntlets.

Both men fell back, the table crashing to the ground and spilling its contents as the light blazed and shone. Minutes passed before the light faded away, leaving the men with spots in their vision.  
Sportacus blinked and glanced down reluctantly at his hands.  
The rusted gauntlets, much like how his chestplate had, were transformed into gorgeous, beautiful pieces built of golden metal. Gone were the clunky and thick metal shaping; now the gauntlet’s build was surprisingly light yet sturdy, and it fit him like a glove (for lack of a better comparison). The metal reached halfway up his forearm, protecting parts of his arms as well as his hands. Tiny spikes of golden metal formed at the knuckles, giving him an extra bit of power if he needed to fight hand-to-hand.  
“Well I’ll be blown.” Kilgrim said in a hushed voice as he stroked his beard.  
The warrior glanced admiringly at the golden gauntlets. He whistled lowly as he gazed at them.  
“Now _those_ are things of beauty. How do they feel? Are they like silk to your skin? They seem like they’d be. And goodness, the addition of those spikes on the knuckles; pure _genius_.” Kilgrim continued.  
“They’re, uh, nice. They fit well.” Sportacus said with a weak smile.  
Kilgrim looked up with a large grin.  
“Ah, I’m getting that joyous feeling in my heart again. You know why, lad?” He said.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“Because I can taste the feeling of the Darkness finally being defeated once and for all! With you and the armor, it seems closer than ever.” He said.  
“Seems so.” Sportacus said distractedly as he looked over his gauntlets.

Kilgrim sighed and crossed his arms. Suddenly, his smile began to fade.  
“Ay, but I imagine this means you must leave soon, yes? There are five pieces of the armor fabled in the legends. You only have two pieces as far as I can tell.” He asked.  
“Yes, just these two.” Sportacus confirmed.  
“Ay, then we shouldn’t keep you long. The world can’t wait for dawdling.” Said Kilgrim sadly as he stroked his beard. “Truth be told, I wish you could stay longer.”  
“I do too.” Said Sportacus with a small smile. “But I’m running behind schedule. I’m heading to the Kingdom of Spoilero and I’m still several days out.”  
“Yes, then we shouldn’t waste time.” Kilgrim said, rushing with Sportacus out of the room. “We’ll make sure your supplies are in order, then we’ll see you on your way. But, Sportacus,”  
Kilgrim stopped suddenly and looked at Sportacus with a warm smile.  
“remember you’re always welcome in these halls. And hey, perhaps you’d consider staying after your battle? We always have room for more strong warriors!”  
Sportacus laughed.  
“I’ll definitely consider it, Kilgrim.” He said, as the two walked back towards his room.

Within the hour, Loftskip was saddled back up and Sportacus’s gear was all accounted for. The elven warrior sat uneasily atop his steed, now dressed in both the chestplate and gauntlets. He looked back down at himself and the sour taste returned. He shook it off as Kilgrim and Valda approached him.  
“Godspeed, Sportacus. Keep your wits about you and never lose hope. We’re all counting on you to hand that sorry Darkness its butt and save the world!” Kilgrim said with a hearty laugh.  
“Fight well and hard, Sportacus. Not that I need to ask you that.” Valda said with a wink.  
She looked at Robbie.  
“And Robbie, remember what I told you. Never forget, okay?” She asked.  
“I promise.” Robbie said quietly.  
“Bye Sportacus! Come back soon!” shouted Ziggy as he pushed between his parents’ legs.  
Sportacus laughed and waved at the cheering warriors as he cracked Loftskip’s reigns. The mare bucked and whinnied as she cantered ahead. The crowd of warriors followed until Sportacus rode past the village’s gates.  
Only Ziggy continued to follow, his waving never ceasing, until Loftskip finally was running far too fast for him to keep up with. He slowed to a stop as Sportacus disappeared over the hill and back towards the main road.

Ziggy sighed sadly and kicked a rock laying on the road. He turned to walk back towards is village, his hands in his pockets, when he saw something glinting in the river.  
Quirking an eyebrow, he looked over.  
A bottle bobbed in the eddies of the river. Inside the bottle, Ziggy could see a rolled-up note.  
His eyes widened. There was only one person that note could be from.  
Skidding down to the river’s edge, he plucked the bottle out of the water and quickly pulled out the note. He scanned its contents and read carefully.  
As he reached the princess’s request, his eyes shot wide as dinner plates.  
This was big news. _Huge_ news.  
He just wondered how his father would react.  
“Papa! Papa! We’re needed!” He yelled at the top of his lungs as he ran all the way back into his little village of warriors.

\--

Valda had requested that he look after Sportacus. Of course, this request was somewhat vague and left up for interpretation, but Robbie took it to mean that he needed to continue what they’d previously been doing.

Namely, he just needed to keep working on the whole “friend” thing that they were still experimenting with.

Let’s see, what was it that friends do?  
Admittedly, it’d been some time since Robbie had _had_ a friend, he needed a refresher.  
Or more, it’d been a while since he’d been a _good_ friend to anyone.  
Well, he distantly remembered that part of being a civil individual was to show concern for their fellow man.  
And, well, he figured he could show an inkling of concern for his wielder.  
For the past few hours since they’d left the village of burly warriors, Sportacus had barely spoken a word. Blessedly, for Robbie, it didn’t seem like Sportacus was ignoring him, so he crossed off anything he did as a reason.  
However, without him as a factor, he was completely lost on what Sportacus seemed so distracted by.  
All he knew was the elf was staring forward, his gaze intent, and face holding an expression that screamed trying to ignore something all over it.  
What he was ignoring, though, was the question.

As Robbie bounced against Loftskip’s side, he continued to think over their exchange that morning. He was proud to say he thought it was pretty cordial, and he’d impressed himself with how natural everything felt.  
The talk about food, the talk about hangover cures…those all went well.  
Robbie paused.  
Something went south when…when…  
He stopped.  
…when he mentioned the armor.  
He looked up again at Sportacus and watched his gaze.  
After several minutes, he came to a conclusion: yes, the elf was trying to avoid looking at himself.  
More notably, he was ignoring the armor he wore. His eyes would dart back up each time he even caught a glimpse of the shining gold that adorned his body.  
Robbie thought back. He soon realized this wasn’t new.  
Sportacus had always been apprehensive about the armor, even on the first day back at Meanswell castle.

But why?

As a friend, Robbie knew he should ask.  
Well, might as well try _something_.  
“So, uh, is it an elven thing to fight in street clothes?” He hazarded.  
Sportacus’s expression twisted into a very surprised and confused one.  
“Well…no. Most elves in a formal fight wear armor. Why?” He asked.  
“I don’t know, just curious. I don’t much about elf culture.” Robbie half-fibbed. “But what about you? Are you a typical elf that way?”  
Sportacus shrugged as he thought.  
“I wore armor about as much as any other elf. It’s generally not a great idea to fight without it. Only thing I’d say is armor can be heavy so it’s tough to do flips while wearing it.”  
“I see. And how’s your armor? Is it pretty heavy?”  
Sportacus paused, then slowly looked at his gauntlet.  
“…No, I wouldn’t say so. It’s pretty light all things considered.” He responded.  
“Ah. Good to know.” Robbie said as dismissively as he could.  
Sportacus only looked down suspiciously for a moment before he went back to his focused riding.

Well, that was one guess out the window, but what was another reason?

“What’s your favorite color?” Robbie blurted.  
Sportacus gave him another look.  
“What?”  
“Your favorite color, what is it?” asked Robbie again.  
Sportacus looked confused once more.  
“Um…blue.” He answered. “What’s yours?”  
“Purple.” Robbie answered.  
“Ah.” Said Sportacus awkwardly.  
“How do you feel about gold?” asked Robbie quickly.  
“Um, it’s fine? It can look quite nice on people.” Sportacus answered slowly.  
“But no real issue with the color?”  
“Not really.”  
“Alright. Thanks.” Said Robbie as he went back to thinking.  
Sportacus simply shook his head and sighed with a small smile.

Admittedly, it was a weak attempt, but at least he tried.

This pattern continued throughout the day, with each of Robbie’s attempts at coaxing an answer only resulting in more unhelpful responses from the elven warrior.  
It was obvious enough to Robbie that Sportacus was dodging, but as much as he wanted to be blunt, he also didn’t want to upset Sportacus anymore than he had before.  
…Then again, what was he thinking?  
He was Robbie Rotten, master of being blunt and slightly acerbic, wasn’t he?  
Oh heck, he’d ask anyways.

Course, he still waited until they found their camping spot for the night. Sportacus had tethered Loftskip to a tree stump and had started a fire when Robbie decided to finally pipe up.  
“Sportacus, what’s with you and the armor?”  
Sportacus froze, his expression shifting to panic for a brief moment. He stayed quiet for a second as he collected himself, his face transitioning back to a blank calmness.  
“What do you mean?” He asked.  
“You know exactly what I mean. Ever since you got that chestplate you’ve been skittish. You treat that armor like it’s cursed when it’s the only thing that’s kept you alive since we started this little journey.”  
Sportacus’s eyes drifted down to the chestplate and gauntlets laying on the ground. His attention darted back to Robbie as he realized he’d begun to stare.  
“I have nothing against the armor.” He answered.  
“Then why don’t you wear it more often? Why do you hesitate each morning when you put it on?” asked Robbie more pointedly.  
“Well,” Sportacus started as he chewed his lip. “um…”  
Robbie waited as Sportacus shifted uncomfortably. The weapon could see every ounce of discomfort on the man’s face, which contradicted with his next words.  
“…it’s nothing, really. It’ll just take time and I’ll start wearing the armor more often.”  
“Bullcrap, Sportacus.” Robbie stated flatly.  
“Robbie!”  
“All I’m saying is you’re holding back on me. Aren’t we supposed to trust each other now? Aren’t we… _friends_?” He asked.

Sportacus paused, then sighed. He nodded slowly.  
“We’re…well…” He said.  
“I know, I know, maybe not quite friends yet, but we’re getting there. Either way, if we want to work together, shouldn’t we be talking with each other?” Robbie pointed out.  
Sportacus averted his gaze.  
“And if not for that…” Robbie said with a sigh. “…then because being quiet isn’t helping you out any. So, for selfishness if not our ‘friendship’, just speak up.”  
Sportacus hesitated. He looked at Robbie with a slightly surprised look in his eyes, as if he were taken aback by his uncharacteristically thoughtful and concerned words. He glanced down at the armor once more, then back to Robbie.  
He nodded slowly.  
“Maybe tomorrow morning. I’m feeling a bit tired; I didn’t sleep well last night.” He said as he crouched down.  
He slipped into his bed roll and laid his head against his pillow. He could feel Robbie’s stare.  
“And I promise, I’ll talk to you about it.” He said.  
“Promise?”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Cross my heart.” He said.  
“Fine.” Robbie stated. “But don’t think I’m dropping this.”  
“I don’t. Good night.” Sportacus said quietly.

Robbie watched as Sportacus turned away.  
He sighed wearily.  
“Good night, Sportacus.” He said.

\--

_They were out in the field, the same field they’d frolicked in so long ago._

_He felt a little older now, and when he looked down at himself and his clothes, he realized he must’ve been around fourteen years old.  
When he looked up, he saw his beloved brother Íþro sitting in front of him.  
His twin was busy tying together daisy stems into a small but lovely crown. He was dressed in very classy looking robes, ones that befit a decorated knight rather than the squire he was. The blessed dagger hung from his side, its golden hilt shining in the fading sunlight._

_He looked at his brother.  
“Íþro, you’ve been training a lot, haven’t you?” He asked.  
Íþro looked up and gave him a look combined with a small smile.  
“What a silly question, of course I have. What else would I have been doing for years and years?” He responded, before he turned back to his flower crown making.  
Sportacus bit his lip and looked beyond his brother. The tall, spiraling building that was Alfenheim’s castle climbed up high as ever into the clouds.  
“Brother, tell me again, what will you do on the day the Darkness arrives?” He asked.  
Íþro looked up slowly and nodded, a proud smile crossing his face.  
“You see the Southern Mountains over there?” He asked, pointing behind him.  
“Yeah?” said Sportacus.  
“When the day comes, the Darkness will emerge from the crest of the mountain. He’ll spread his evil presence over the rocks and spill over into the valley. He’ll be roaring like this!” said Íþro as he imitated the gurgling and bubbling sounds of the Darkness.  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“Brother, please, I don’t need the sound effects anymore. We’re both almost men now. Men don’t get sound effects with their stories.”  
“Ah fine, be as humorless as the elders.” Said Íþro as he stuck his tongue out. “Either way, the Darkness will stretch across the valley and threaten Alfenheim with its horrible powers.”  
He grinned.  
“That’s where I come in.” He said as he drew his dagger. “I’ll charge the Darkness with my dagger blessed by our Goddess of Light, and upon striking it the other pieces of the armor will make themselves present. With all the armor and my weapon, I will defeat the Darkness and save our homeland from evil.”  
His proud expression weakened slightly as he sheathed his dagger once more.  
“Well, that’s what I’ve been told at least.”_

_“And me? What can…or will, I do to help you? I won’t let you fight it alone.” Asked Sportacus seriously, a determined look in his eyes.  
Íþro paused, then smiled warmly. He slipped the flower crown onto his brother’s head.  
“You, of course, will be fighting by my side. Even with this blessed armor and weapon, I’m going to need help. And who do I trust more than my brother?” He said.  
Sportacus smiled and nodded. He slapped his fist against his chest.  
“I won’t let you down!” He stated bravely.  
Íþro nodded slowly. As he did, his expression’s warmth faded and, while his expression remained the same, it suddenly took on a cold quality.  
“But you have already…didn’t you?” He asked coolly._

_Sportacus’s smile vanished and his fist dropped slowly. He gasped in shock as the ground shook and broke. He looked towards the distance, just in time to watch the Darkness’s maw emerge from the top of the castle. The castle groaned and buckled, with pieces falling to the earth below, as the Darkness’s web-like tentacles wrapped around the spire-like castle. A heavens-shaking roar broke through the air as the clouds swirled and darkened around the castle. The Darkness sputtered and inflated, its main body growing like a tumor on the side of the castle, pulsating and bubbling. Fat globs of its essence sputtered and splattered onto the ground beneath it, spreading its influence across the whole of the kingdom.  
The terrified screams and shrieks of innocent elves pierced the air and shook Sportacus to his core. He stared with pleading and tearful eyes at his brother, who stood still with his gaze burrowing into Sportacus’s.  
“Íþro, what are you doing?! Our home is in trouble, you have to save it!” He cried.  
“But how can I, dear _ brother _?” Íþro asked in a spitting tone, his gaze growing dark. “How can I save our home if you_ stole my armor _?”  
Sportacus looked at him in confusion until his gaze fell to himself. He gasped and leapt back as he realized he was wearing the blessed chestplate and gauntlets.  
As he fought to rip them off, his gaze shot back up to his brother with silently fearful apologies.  
His throat felt constricted as the ooze of the Darkness swirled around his brother.  
“This is all **your fault**.” Íþro spat, as he was consumed by the Darkness._

_“NO!” Sportacus shrieked as he ran straight towards the Darkness, which pulled and ate at his feet. “BROTHER! I’M SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!”_  
_He was offered no response as he felt the burning sensation of the Darkness encompass first his legs, then his torso, then his arms. The armor he bore sizzled and melted away as he fell to ground.  
Tears rolled down his face as he watched his home be consumed and destroyed by The Darkness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a bit, I apologize for that. Hopefully everyone's still having fun with this story, I know it's taking its time but we'll be getting to the Spoilero kingdom pretty soon here (like another 2 chapters and we'll be there). Until then, I hope you're all having fun! Next chapter might be a little bit depending on if writing goes smoothly.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	10. The Eruption

Sportacus’s night was a composition of both nightmares and abrupt awakenings, each with him drenched in sweat and spending several minutes composing himself and reassuring himself that all of the horrific images he pictured were not reality.

As one might imagine, none of these things were conducive to a good night’s sleep.

The sun broke over the horizon and spilt its beams across Sportacus’s face. He groaned and tossed about in his bed roll as he, much like yesterday, tried to shield his eyes from the awakening sun.  
His eyes felt dry and tired, and his body felt both heavy yet shaky.  
Despite sleeping for so many hours, he felt drained.  
His head laying against his pillow, he felt like he could laugh from the exhaustion and fatigue of a long night of bad sleep.  
He glanced over at Robbie and heard the low snoring from the weapon.  
If he wasn’t awake yet, Sportacus guessed it was pretty early.  
He could, maybe, just for today, get away with sleeping in a little. After all, a well-rested hero was better than a tired one.

He closed his eyes and decided to try and sleep again.

…

“Hand over your loot, or I’ll slice your little ears off, _elf_.” A voice hissed.  
Sportacus’s eyes shot open and he turned over. As he did, he came face-to-face with the point of a long blade.  
He yelped and scurried back, the blade following him as he did. He looked up and into the gaze of a burly, rough looking man with a scraggly mustache and severe scowl.  
He glanced quickly to his left and spotted the two other men pawing at his belongings. He could see one man eying Robbie with a greedy gaze.  
Looking back at the man threatening him, Sportacus took a breath and, carefully, whacked away the blade with his bent wrist. The man gasped in surprise as his blade clattered off to the side. He chased after his sword as Sportacus scrambled out of his bed roll.  
Tucking into a roll, Sportacus stopped right in front of Robbie and pulled him from the ground. He jumped to his feet and pointed him at the thieves, who stared at him with wide eyes and weapons ready.  
One thief charged at him with an axe and screamed along the way. Sportacus breathed and exhaled as he flipped Robbie to his side and whacked the man away at the knees with the flat surface. The man flinched and tumbled, his balance thrown off. His friend ran to his side as the first thief swung his sword at Sportacus. Sportacus jumped back, but not soon enough to avoid the blade’s edge, which drew a thin line across his chest.  
He winced and patted at his wound, feeling for any blood. Blessedly, the wound was too shallow to draw blood, but it still smarted.  
Gripping his sword, Sportacus faced the thief who wildly swung his sword around with no care or form. He felt his head spin for a moment and his body dull, but he forced himself forward. He whapped the man’s wrist with the flat side of the blade before charging forward and punching him in the face. This sent the man sprawling to the ground.

Sportacus stepped back and looked wearily at the thieves in his camp. The one standing thief glared at him as he helped his comrade back onto his feet.  
“This is your chance, Sportacus! Grab your chestplate and gauntlets; we might get at least one of those two on before they attack!” Robbie reminded his wielder.  
He noticed how Sportacus’s gaze grew glassy and distant for a moment as he mentioned the armor. Actually, it seemed like the elf was frozen as soon as the word “chestplate” reached his ears.  
“Sportacus? Sportacus! Watch out!” shouted Robbie.  
The fog cleared from Sportacus’s gaze just in time to see the other thief swing a long rod at his head.  
It connected with a violent and sharp _whap_ that sent Sportacus spinning and collapsing to the ground. He groaned as he forced himself onto his knees. His head spun and ached from the blow, and as he felt the side of his head he knew it’d form into a nasty bruise later.  
Before he could get up, the thief’s foot connected with his chest, with evacuated the air in his lungs in a painful gasp. Sportacus was sent sprawling to the ground as he attempted to catch his breath. The thief loomed above with his rod, poised to stab the blunt weapon into Sportacus’s chest.  
Finally collecting himself, Sportacus gripped Robbie and swung the sharp edge at the thief’s legs. The thief shrieked as he collapsed onto his knees, his legs painted with his blood. With the thief disabled for the time, Sportacus sat up and threw a haymaker at the thief’s head, knocking him out cold.  
Sportacus pulled himself onto his feet and stared down the third thief, the one the other had been helping. He glared at the thief who, seeing the elf’s anger, scrambled onto his feet and ran away towards a series of rocks.

With the danger seemingly gone, Sportacus sighed and wiped the blade against his shirt.  
“Are you okay?” He asked Robbie.  
“Am _I_ okay?? I should be asking you that. You _froze_ getting the armor; what was that about?” Robbie asked.  
Sportacus’s face went pale. He stopped for a moment before he sheathed Robbie.  
“We can talk about that later. We’re not safe here.” He said as he busied himself with collecting his belongings.  
“You said we’d talk in the morning! It’s the morning, and this deal with your armor nearly got you killed!” Robbie protested.  
“I said we aren’t safe, Robbie. If you’d like to stay and chat, we can, but it’s not a good idea.” Sportacus said pointedly as he saddled up Loftskip.  
“We aren’t in danger, Sportacus. You took out the other bandits, we’re alone now. Please just tell me.” Robbie asked.

Before Sportacus could answer, his attention snapped back towards the rocks.

From behind the rocks emerged at least a dozen other bandits, all looking quite unhappy and furious with Sportacus, and all sporting a variety of sharp and blunt weapons. At least four came in on horseback.  
His eyes shrinking to pinpricks, Sportacus leapt atop Loftskip and cracked her reigns.  
“Later, I promise. For now, let’s get away.” He said.  
“But the armor! Put it on - !” Robbie started before he was interrupted by an arrow flying just an inch from him.

Sportacus didn’t respond nor pause as he sprinted away atop Loftskip, the bandits close behind their heels.

\--

The table that now lived in the throne room of Meanswell castle was near invisible beneath the dozens of scrolls and maps that littered it.

Beside it, Lord Meanswell cast a shadow across the scrolls as he scrutinized, his brow furrowed deep towards his eyes. He scanned the map laid across the table, marked with “x’s” and other markings that denoted different battalion set ups and battle strategies.  
He scooched a piece of wood representing a catapult a few inches to the right.  
“We need more protection on the western side of the kingdom. Right now, we’re simply too bare and we can’t afford to lose that area.” He stated quietly.  
Lady Busybody fluttered her fan and scooched the wood piece a little further to the right.  
“I think here would be better. This’ll set the catapult by these hills that’ll partially hide it. We could get an upper hand on the Darkness with this.” She said.  
A grumbled sigh came from a general, decorated with shining silver armor, that stood across the table from the lord and lady.  
“We would know better where to place the catapults if we had the presence of the Spoilero leadership.” He stated.  
“You’re right. Dear, have you heard from Queen Isabella yet?” asked Lady Busybody as she looked at her husband expectantly.  
Lord Meanswell stood tall and thought carefully. He shook his head.  
“Oh dear, I don’t believe so. It’s odd, she’s usually so punctual.” He noted nervously.  
The general shook his head and thumped the table with his fist.  
“Well what are we supposed to do until she wakes up and arrives? We’re missing a substantial amount of manpower right now, and it’ll be impossible to account for it until she brings her armies.”  
Lord Meanswell frowned.  
“Show respect, General Whitevale. This is Queen Isabella you’re talking about, not one of your underlings. Mouth off like that again and I’ll have to strip you of rank!”  
General Whitevale bit his lip and nodded.  
“My apologies, Lord Meanswell.” He said sheepishly.  
“Then I suppose a break is in order, then?” Lady Busybody suggested.  
Stephanie, who had been laying on the floor drawing, perked up hopefully.  
Lord Meanswell ran a hand down his face and sighed. He nodded.  
“I suppose have no other choice. How does lunch sound to everyone?” He asked.  
“I’ll alert the kitchen to prepare us a meal. Hopefully it’ll be ready within the hour.” Lady Busybody said as she strode across the room.

Before anyone could consider their lunch decisions, the doors to the throne room were thrown open as a frantic looking guard scrambled into the room, panting heavily.

“My lord! My lady! We must get ready! We’ve been invaded!” He gasped as he bent over to catch his breath.  
Lord Meanswell’s face went white and his eyes widened.  
“I-Invaded? By who?!” He asked.  
“Guards! Weapons at the ready! Now!” Lady Busybody shouted as she snapped her fingers.  
The guards fumbled for their weapons and pointed them at the door.  
Lord Meanswell approached the panicking guard and laid a hand on his shoulder.  
“Soldier, _who_ is invading us? The Darkness? Bandits?” He asked.  
“O-Our invaders, they’re…they’re…” The guard gasped and sputtered.

“KING ALCOT MEANSWELL!” Bellowed a deep voice.  
The doors to the throne room were thrown nearly off their hinges as the supposed invaders made their presence. Lord Meanswell, Lady Busybody, and Princess Stephanie were on their feet and staring in shock at the entrance.  
Into the throne room stepped Kilgrim, his Warhammer slung over his shoulder by its strap, accompanied by Valda, Ziggy, and at least three dozen other warriors, all walking with a level of pride and presence.  
The shock evaporated from Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody’s faces and was immediately replaced with expressions of contempt and annoyance. Lady Busybody fluttered and snapped her fan.  
Princess Stephanie, meanwhile, grinned at the sight of her old friend.  
“Ziggy! It’s good to see you!” She said as she attempted to run to him, only to be snatched back by her aunt.  
“Stephanie, please stay back! You have no reason to congregate with these… _ruffians_.” She said with a sneer and a suspicious glare.  
“Now now lady, I wouldn’t be throwing around insults like that towards your saviors. We’re invited guests, not some ratty invaders!” said Kilgrim, who attempted to approach only to meet the spears of three guards.  
The guards stood defiantly in front of the gargantuan warrior, even as their boots rattled from their shaking.  
Kilgrim quirked an eyebrow and chuckled before looking at his wife.  
“Valda, my love, I think they don’t want us to go any further.” He said.  
Valda cracked her knuckles and stepped forward. With one swift motion she yanked the spears from the guards’ hands, which sent them tumbling to the ground.  
“Hmph, teeny weapons. These men need our help more than we thought.” She said thoughtfully as she snapped all three spears in half with one hand.  
Lord Meanswell shrunk back and uttered a small squeak of fear, even as he attempted to keep his composure.

Lady Busybody, being more composed than her husband at the moment, stepped forward.  
“I have no idea what you barbarians are talking about, but to think you’re invited guests is absolutely absurd! Make yourselves scarce before we send our entire forces after you!” She threatened.  
“Ay, well we have the invitation to prove it. Here we are,” said Kilgrim as he pulled out Stephanie’s scroll. “you lot are planning to fight the Darkness and need our assistance. A wise choice indeed, given that your flabby bodies and twig limbs won’t stand a chance against the forces of evil.”  
“I beg your pardon?!” Lord Meanswell shouted, incensed.  
“Ah, and there’s a good example of what we mean.” Noted Valda as she gestured to him.  
“Now see here, you meat-headed pig people,” Lord Meanswell growled as he stepped up to glare at Kilgrim. “even if you were invited, I will not tolerate you all coming in here and insulting our citizens! But given that you weren’t even invited, that’s beside the point. Get out of our city and never show your sorry faces around these lands ever again!”  
“You’re a very strange man. Who forgets their own invitation?” said Kilgrim amusedly. “Then again, I suppose you don’t look much like a Stephanie.”  
He glanced around Lord Meanswell as the man’s eyes widened in stunned shock. He quirked an eyebrow at Lady Busybody.  
“Would you happen to be a Princess Stephanie?” He asked.  
Lady Busybody, also in shock, simply shook her head.  
“That’d be me, sir.” Said Stephanie quietly as she stepped from behind her aunt.  
Lord Meanswell and Lady Busybody’s attention snapped to their niece.  
“ _You_ invited these slovenly monsters into our kingdom?!” asked Lord Meanswell.  
“Stephanie, dear, how could you? Don’t you know how horrible these people are?” Lady Busybody asked more patiently.  
“Because they aren’t horrible monsters! I’ve been friends with Ziggy for a while, and he’s one of their warriors! And I figured we would need all the help we could get!” She answered.  
“Your daughter is very smart, lady. She can tell a mighty group when she sees them and isn’t too uptight and snobbish to ask for help!” Kilgrim said as he crouched to Stephanie’s level.  
Lady Busybody frowned and stepped between the two.  
“You all should leave this instant. Regardless whether the princess invited you or not, you are _not_ welcome on these premises!” She stated.  
“But Aunt Busybody! You and the general were just talking about how Queen Isabella hasn’t responded to uncle’s letter yet! With Ziggy’s family’s warriors, we could keep planning!” Stephanie protested.  
“Stephanie, please!” Lord Meanswell chastised.  
“Oh ho! As I suspected. Even with your ‘civilized ways’ you can’t even get in contact with your other nobles.” Kilgrim chuckled.  
“Just stand back, tiny lord and lady.” Said Valda as she approached the table. “We’ll handle your little invasion problem for you. You two can focus on your stitching and soap making, or whatever you all do.”

“Now just a moment!” said Lord Meanswell, his face red as a beet. “I’ve said it enough times by now, but I see I have to repeat myself! GET. OUT, YOU FAT-HEADED BUFFOONS.”  
Kilgrim stopped and, slowly, he turned to face Lord Meanswell, a dangerous look in his eyes.  
“Mister, you’re picking a fight you know you can’t win. I’d suggest you step back before things turn bad for you.” He said softly.  
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” said Lord Meanswell.  
“I would’ve thought with all your education you’d figure that out.” Kilgrim snarked.  
“Well I’m surprised with all your uncivilized raucousness that you haven’t made your son into a stew yet.” Lord Meanswell countered.  
Kilgrim glowered at the lord and growled, his hands twitching towards his Warhammer.  
“Both of you! Knock it off!” shouted Stephanie as she pushed both Kilgrim and her uncle apart with mixed results.  
The two men stopped and looked down at the little girl.  
“We really can’t afford to fight right now, can we? The Darkness is in the country and is growing bigger every day. Can’t you both put aside our families’ stupid feud for after the Darkness is defeated, and everyone is safe?!” She said angrily.  
Ziggy ran up and stood by her side.  
“Yeah. Papa, please, we have to get along this once.” He pleaded with wide eyes. “Think about our old hunting grounds and all the friends who are gone. Their memories must be more important than an old argument, right?”  
Both men looked at the children with surprise. After a moment, both of their gazes drew to each other.  
Lord Meanswell was first to speak after a lengthy pause.  
“To make it clear, this does not mean our kingdoms are on good terms, but the children are right. Both of our homes are in trouble. The least we can do is clam up for a few weeks to fight our common enemy.” He said.  
Kilgrim nodded.  
“Agreed.” He said before he looked down at his son.  
He smiled and ruffled his hair.  
“You both are right.” He said.  
Ziggy grinned and giggled.  
“So you both promise not to fight? Not even a peep?” asked Stephanie.

Kilgrim and Lord Meanswell looked at each other, then back to their wives. The women nodded reluctantly and, thus, the two men nodded as well.

“I promise upon our good goddess’s name, not an insult or comment from me or my warriors.” Said Kilgrim as he drew an ‘x’ on his chest.  
“I agree as well.” Said Lord Meanswell.

The two men looked at each other awkwardly in silence. Kilgrim rubbed his neck as he blew out a sharp breath.  
“So.” He said.  
Lord Meanswell nodded and gestured towards the table.  
“I suppose we should get started with the planning. We have the strategies set up over there.” He said.  
“Very well. Lead on.” Said Kilgrim politely as he followed the shorter man.

Princess Stephanie, with the crisis now averted, sighed wearily and sat down. Ziggy sat down next to her.  
“That was close.” She said.  
“Why _do_ they hate each other so much?” asked Ziggy.  
Princess Stephanie shrugged.  
“My dad mentioned something about our clans being related. We were descended from one brother and your clan the other, and they had a falling out shortly before our kingdoms were established.” She said.  
“Oh.” Said Ziggy as he looked over at the table.  
The two listened as the conversation at the battle table rose from polite to slightly louder and more heated.  
“How long until they fight again?” asked Ziggy in a hushed voice.  
Stephanie sighed tiredly.  
“I give it a day.” She whispered back.

\--

If one were to see what Sportacus and his trusted mare looked like at the end of the day, one would assume that they were returning from a major war rather than an unfortunate run-in with a slightly over-zealous bandit group.

Loftskip’s gait was slightly hobbled, the gray mare’s coat stained with streaks of blood oozing from fresh wounds. Two arrows jutted from her hind leg, and the poor steed seemed to wince and hesitate each time she moved that particular limb. Her saddle bags were riddled with tears and rips from the many sword, spears, and arrows that scraped and bit at the material.  
Robbie’s blade, usually so shiny and pristine, was splattered with stains from mud to blood that left its metallic surface dull and obscured. After the group had managed to escape the last remnants of the bandit invaders, he had been haphazardly shoved back into his sheath which left him uncomfortable and weary from the ordeal.  
But worst of all was Sportacus. The man, an elf who generally had a youthful air to his appearance and demeanor, now sat atop his mare hunched over and bedraggled like a seasoned and war-torn veteran. Loose strands of his golden blonde hair laid messily over his forehead, their tips stained a dark crimson from the dried blood, both his own and others. The expression his face held was one of weariness, with bags building under his eyes and skin that held a slightly pale gray hue to his usual coloration. His blue clothes were spotted with red and held several new tears and rips. His knuckles were bruised and dotted with painful sores.  
Worst was the broken hilt of an arrow that stuck out of his arm, which he had yet neglected to deal with. There wasn’t much of a lull in the course of battle to afford time for first aid.

The group came to a stop by an active river surrounded by a field of tall grass that tickled Loftskip’s belly. Sportacus pulled back the reigns and slowly slipped off her saddle, stumbling as his feet met the ground. He looked back and winced at the two arrows that poked from her hind.  
“Hold on a few, girl. I’ll patch you up and you’ll feel better in no time.” He said soothingly and quietly close to the mare’s ear.  
Loftskip blinked slowly and twitched her ear in response.  
Sportacus sighed and began digging out the medical supplies from one of the satchels. He had no experience with treating animal wounds, but he felt that leaving the arrows in Loftskip’s leg was a far worse option than trying something. He continued to stroke her back as he yanked the arrows out, his eye trained upon her legs in case she decided to kick. With a rag soaked in river water he cleaned up her wounds and smeared some of his precious poultice atop them. Whatever he did seemed to work as the look in Loftskip’s eyes transitioned from pain to a small sort of relief.  
Next Sportacus made his way to Robbie. He unsheathed the weapon and took him to the river. With a different cloth he scrubbed vigorously at the blade, working at the dried blood stains and dirt.  
All the while, Robbie’s gaze remained fixed upon the elf’s exhausted expression and the broken arrow stuck in his arm. It was a gaze that both held concern as well as frustration.  
With him cleaned, Sportacus set Robbie aside and finally focused on himself. He cringed at the arrow shaft burrowed in his arm as he realized what he’d have to endure to keep it from being infected.  
Grabbing a clean cloth and biting down on it, Sportacus forced his eyes shut as he fiddled with the broken arrow, feeling it shift underneath his skin. Tears welled in his eyes and a cry escaped his clenched teeth as he finally yanked it free, with him barely resisting the temptation to chuck the remnants into the river.  
He made short work washing the pulsating wound and using the scarce amount of poultice left on himself, him barely having enough of the healing goop to cover his rather sizeable wound. Afterwards, he began wrapping a length of gauze around his wounded arm.

It was as he was doing this that Robbie finally broke his silence.  
“This was all avoidable you know.”  
Sportacus stopped and looked over at his weapon with confusion.  
“I mean, not the bandit camp invasion, but your wounds. This didn’t have to happen. Where that arrow hit you? Your chestplate’s pauldrons would’ve kept that area covered.”  
Sportacus’s confusion was quickly replaced with weary irritation. He turned away and sighed.  
“Please, Robbie, let’s not get into this now.” He said as he sliced away the excess gauze with a small knife.  
“Then when, Sportacus? When we aren’t being attacked? We can’t plan for that and you know it.” Robbie said pointedly.  
“No, just not now.” Sportacus said tersely as he felt his bruised knuckles, with him hissing at the pain.  
“Those too. Your gauntlets are made to _protect_ your knuckles, yet you didn’t wear them.”  
“I didn’t have time to put on my armor. I can’t just throw these all on like a tunic.”  
“You had ample time back at our last camp!” Robbie protested. “I pointed it out to you and everything, but you froze instead of listening!”  
Sportacus’s face paled at the memory. He closed his eyes and shook his head.  
“Heat of battle, don’t always think things through. I’ll try and listen better next time.” He offered.  
“But will you? Will you, Sportadummy?” Robbie asked angrily.  
Sportacus looked back at Robbie in annoyance.  
“It’s not nice to call people names. You really think I’ll listen if you’re calling me things like that?”  
“Well what _else_ should I call you? You and that armor haven’t made sense since day one because you keep refusing to use it. I’ve ignored it until now, but I want an answer because this is getting ridiculous!”  
Sportacus’s gaze fell as he turned back away.  
“What will it take, Sportajerk??” Robbie asked, his frustration mounting. “Just tell me, what will it take? Do you need to nearly die _again_ so you’ll finally stop clamming up?”  
Sportacus’s body tensed at the question.  
“Is that it?? Is that really it?! Because if not, I need to know! What is it, Sportacow? What is the problem?!” Robbie asked, his voice pitching into a near shout.

“Because this armor _isn’t mine_!” Sportacus nearly yelled back, his face red and his eyes watering as his gaze snapped back to his sword.

Silence, deafening silence, fell. Sportacus’s chest heaved as he stared in nearly blind anger at his weapon, the first few tears trickling down his cheeks.

“…What?” asked Robbie softly.  
Sportacus sniffed and stared at the sword, his eyes still angry.  
“This armor. It isn’t mine. It was never supposed to be mine and never _will_ be mine. I shouldn’t be using it.” He answered in a softer voice.  
“What are you talking about? Of course, this armor is yours. It responded to you, didn’t it?” Robbie answered, his confusion not subsiding but instead growing.  
“It shouldn’t have! I-I’m not the Chosen Hero! The armor should only respond to the chosen hero and I’m not him!” Sportacus sputtered, more tears rolling down his face as his anger held fast.  
“Then who? Who’s the chosen hero if it’s not you? And why would it respond to you if you’re not him?” pressed Robbie.  
“My brother! My brother Íþro! He’s the chosen hero! He’s the one who was supposed to wear this armor! He’s the one who’s supposed to slay the Darkness and save our world from destruction! He’s the one with the prophecy and the responsibility! He’s the one the world needs, _not me_!” Sportacus continued, his expression beginning to waver.  
Tears stained his clothes as he stared in anguish at Robbie.  
“At least, t-that’s what I was told. That’s what we were _both_ told since we were kids. He’s the only one who can use the armor to fight the Darkness. It should only respond to him. It’s what I…I knew. I’ve always known. It’s how it’s supposed to be. B-But…” He said, his anger finally breaking.  
His expression finally fell, rage being replaced by despair.  
“…it responded to _me_. Both pieces, they fit me. I can use their power, but…that’s not right. I’m not the hero, _he_ is. None of this is right. None of this is what I was told.” Sportacus continued quietly, his tears growing fatter, and faster. “And if the truth isn’t what I was told…if _I’m_ the bearer of the armor, then what about…what…”  
His body visibly shook as he fell forward onto his hands and knees. He curled into himself as he fought to keep whatever thread of composure he had left. Blood-stained curls hid whatever view of the elf’s face Robbie had. He could hear the tiny cries and sobs from his wielder, obscured by how he was positioned.

Robbie may have only started being friendly to him a few days ago, but the sight still broke his heart.

He could only listen to the elf’s crying for a few moments before he collected himself and asked calmly:  
“Sportacus, why…why exactly _did_ you leave Alfenheim?” He asked.  
Sportacus’s shaking continued, but his sobbing seemed to quiet down.  
“I suppose it sounds like an odd question, but I just – “  
“No, it’s not.” Sportacus answered in a near whisper. “Why I’m here has everything to do with the armor and my brother.”  
He dragged himself back up, so he was sitting with his legs tucked underneath him. Robbie winced as he saw how red the elf’s face was, and how it glistened from the tears.  
Sportacus’s gaze remained on the ground as he took a breath.  
“Nobody had any idea of what was going to happen on my last day home.” He started quietly.

\--

_His assignment for that day had been patrol duty on the outer borders of the kingdom._

_The sun was partly shielded by fluffy white clouds and the air held a slight bite in its gusts. Sportacus rode through the golden grains atop one of the many soldier horses, a white stallion with a black mane. That day, he’d been assigned one of the quieter routes, one that was so rarely traveled that the soldiers who did keep that route weren’t even asked to wear armor and instead were given a quick defensive blessing by a court mage._

_Sportacus hated those patrols, for he always felt on edge while on them._

_Without his armor, how would he be ready to defend the kingdom? After all, those defensive blessings were only so powerful and would do little against repeated blows to the body. Or worse, what if the Darkness were to emerge while he was on one of these “relaxed” patrols? He couldn’t stand a chance in helping his brother.  
Then again, Sportacus assumed those mages must know something he didn’t. He was never particularly talented at magic, so he relented the advanced knowledge to the experts, even when their plans didn’t make much sense to him.  
His quartersword swung from his hip as he rode along, his eyes fixed upon his surroundings and his ears trained upon the symphony of sounds riding along the wind.  
Birds chirped in the distant forest, their songs like tiny chimes to his ears.  
The grass and grains rustled and shook.  
The stirrups and other fixings upon his steed jingled with every stride.  
He sighed.  
It was another uneventful patrol.  
“Whoa, Traveler.” He stated as he pulled back on the reigns. “Let’s stop here for a moment.”  
Traveler snorted in response, his tail whipping about in boredom.  
Sportacus flipped off the horse’s back and landed perfectly on the ground, giving him a brief moment’s respite from the monotony of his job. Reaching into the saddle bag, he pulled out half of a carrot and walked over towards the front of his horse. Working with the bridle, he removed it before offering Traveler the carrot, which he ate up greedily.  
While the horse munched on his snack, Sportacus looked towards the woods and, for a moment, he afforded himself the chance to daydream. He sat down and plucked a stem of wheat to chew on. He’d overheard an elder speaking about a distant ocean that sparkled like sapphires with air warm and inviting. He’d never even seen an ocean, and he wondered if maybe one day he might see one._

_These dreams were abruptly halted as a deafening boom shook the ground and sent the birds flying in terror from the treetops._

_Traveler neighed and shrieked in shock, its attention turned towards the distant Alfenheim. Sportacus was sent sprawling to the ground by the quake, him tumbling onto his back. He leapt back onto his feet and gaped at the sight.  
It was like a piece of the castle had broken away, and in its wake grew something living and black. A plume of smoke spiraled up and polluted the fluffy white clouds, and streams of black rolled down the white marble like a waterfall.  
Sportacus’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks.  
“What is THAT?!” He asked to no one in particular, his ears pinning back against his head.  
He gasped as Traveler began to buck and continued screaming, its hooves slamming repeatedly against the dirt.  
Sportacus rushed to his horse’s side as he quickly worked to calm the panicking animal. He uttered soothing words and rubbed at the stallion’s neck, which seemed to at least quell the animal’s panic for the moment. Forgoing the bridle, Sportacus leapt atop Traveler’s back and kicked him into gear, aiming him back towards home._

_As Sportacus barreled towards Alfenheim, the earth beneath him continued to shake and tremble. More deafening booms and explosion rocketed from the main spire of the kingdom, and the strange black mass just seemed to grow larger with every passing second. The streams of black ooze continued to pour down the marble walls of the spire and were soon threatening to spill into the town below.  
Sportacus gritted his teeth and he nudged Traveler into a gallop, which was soon interrupted by the largest of the explosions.  
Traveler whinnied in pain as he tipped forward and crashed into the earth. Sportacus gasped as he was thrown off the horse’s back and collided into the ground, his sword clattering out of reach and his body aching as he skidded across the uneven surface. He came to a stop a few feet away, and he groaned as he lifted himself onto his feet.  
As he stood, he wobbled horribly as he felt the earth shake below him. His ear turned towards a crackling noise that seemed to emanate from behind him. He turned just in time to watch in horror as the earth cracked and broke apart, this new mouth taking and eating his sword and his poor, fallen steed.  
He could only offer a short, sorrowful look before another boom tore his attention back towards the mass growing across the castle. He could hear screams echo from beyond the walls and thunder rumble in the clouds above him.  
His heart thumped in his ears. He ran towards his home as his eyes scanned the area, looking for anyone who might provide him answers as to what was happening._

_Bits of burning rock sailed through the air as Sportacus ran, leaving pitch-black trails of smoke stained across the sky. He flinched as one crashed only a few feet from him but continued to sprint, his attention never deviating from his home.  
He skidded to a stop, however, once he found someone he didn’t expect to see.  
“Íþro?” He asked.  
His brother turned and looked at him with a horrified expression. He was dressed in the fine robes he’d been gifted once he earned his knighthood, ones tailored in a mustard yellow color he favored so much. Said robes were marred by soot stains and dried black goop that seemed to hiss and bubble. A long gash stretched across his face from his cheek to the spot above his lip.  
Sportacus’s face paled.  
“Brother?” He asked once more, his gaze darting back and forth from his brother to the black mass.  
“Sportacus…” Íþro said in a low voice.  
The two flinched as another explosion rang in the air.  
“Íþro, what in the world is going on? What _ is _that thing?!” Sportacus asked, pointing at the mass.  
Íþro audibly gulped as he looked at his brother uneasily.  
“It’s…It’s the Darkness. It’s arrived.” He finally answered.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and his pupils shrunk. His attention snapped back to his brother.  
“B-But how?! I-I thought you said it would emerge from the Southern Mountains, not Alfenheim!” He asked.  
“I – “  
“And why are you here? You should be fighting the Darkness, but you’re outside the city!” Sportacus said as he clasped his brother’s arms.  
“I – “  
“And,” Sportacus said, his gaze drifting to Íþro’s belt.  
An empty sheath hung from it.  
“where’s the blessed dagger?”  
Íþro cringed once he saw what his brother saw.  
Sportacus’s gaze snapped up to his brother once more.  
“Í-Íþro, please, what is going on here?” He asked fearfully and quietly. “Please, just tell me.”_

_“I-I don’t know.” Íþro admitted softly. “The dagger, I…I struck at the Darkness with it. I expected to kill it right there but…the dagger shattered.”  
“What??” Sportacus asked in shock.  
Another explosion rocked the area around them, which sent burning rubble cascading a few feet away from them.  
Íþro’s pupils shrunk as his attention returned to his brother. He pushed Sportacus’s hands away and stepped back.  
“You need to leave.” He said softly as he snapped his fingers. A portal glowing with a yellow light appeared next to him.  
“What? No! W-Why would you ask that? I told you I’d fight beside you, remember?” Sportacus said with determination.  
“With what, Sportacus? You don’t even have a sword.” Íþro said exasperatedly.  
“I-I can get one! There’s plenty at the barracks, plus armor. Come on, we can run through the side streets and get there if we – “  
“ **No**.” Íþro said firmly.  
Sportacus stopped and stared at his brother.  
“Brother, I…I don’t know how to say this but…our plan? It isn’t going to work anymore. Our plan was set on the idea that my dagger would hurt the Darkness and summon the armor I needed to fight. But the dagger shattered, and the armor is nowhere to be found. Nothing is going as prophesized.” Íþro said with a quiet voice that betrayed the faintest fear._

_He clasped his hands on Sportacus’s shoulders and looked at him gravely._

_“But there’s two things I still know are true. First is that I’m still responsible to help keep our people and the world safe from the Darkness, armor or not. And second…I’m not letting you get hurt. I can’t lose you.” He said.  
“But brother, I can’t let you fight alone either! Without that armor – “Sportacus protested.  
“_ You _have to find it, Sportacus. I can’t leave our home, and if the armor won’t come to me then you must find the pieces.” Íþro stated firmly.  
His gaze softened as he looked at his fearful brother.  
“Please, Sportacus, please. For the kingdom, and for me.” He said softly.  
Sportacus looked at him nervously, his eyes watering. After a moment, he reluctantly nodded.  
Íþro’s eyes closed and he sighed a sigh of relief. Another quake rumbled through the earth and split a new fissure through the fields.  
Íþro’s attention snapped first to the crumbling spire then to his brother. He looked at his brother with a sorrowful expression that clashed with his weakly reassuring smile.  
“We can’t delay. Find the armor and bring it back here. And don’t worry about me brother, I have Elder Maron and Elder Freya ready to assist me in the fight.” He said as he hugged Sportacus.  
Sportacus hugged him back and held him tight. As he did, he felt his brother’s hands weasel their way to his chest.  
“I’ll see you soon brother. Now go.” Íþro whispered, before he gave him an abrupt shove._

_Sportacus was thrown backwards and through the portal, his body being dragged backwards by the magic portal’s internal gravity. He shouted his brother’s name, but Íþro didn’t hear him.  
The last thing he saw was his brother charging back towards the smoldering kingdom._

\--

Robbie didn’t initially respond to this tale that Sportacus had spun. But, how could he? His mind was swimming from all the information, all the horror and, to a degree, all the heartache.

“Oh.” Was all he could muster after several moments, his voice quiet.  
During this re-telling, Sportacus’s head had dropped and his arms had wrapped themselves around his torso in a self-hug. His expression shifted multiple times between a forced calm and near breaking into tears, clenching and softening.  
“I…wanted to stay. I wanted to stay, I _promised_ him I’d stay. I promised him when we were little that I’d fight by his side against the Darkness, but he sent me away. He’s fighting that thing alone without this armor.” He said in a choked voice.  
He rocked lightly back and forth.  
“I-I’ve tried to be hopeful, _tried_ to believe that if I just hurried and found the armor I could bring it back to him in time. I hoped that I’d find it and bring it to him, and it’d be just like the prophecies. He’d wear it like he’s supposed to and end the Darkness before it could destroy everything. But…”  
Sportacus’s face tensed as he fought back tears.  
“…this isn’t right. The armor, it chose _me_. It chose me and not _him_ , and now what am I supposed to do? Everyone tells me _I’m_ the chosen hero but I’m not! He _is_! This armor isn’t mine! _It isn’t SUPPOSED to be mine!_ ” He said, his voice pitching to a yell.  
At that, Sportacus ripped off one of the gauntlets and flung it away. It clattered against the ground and came to a stop by Loftskip.  
A sob escaped Sportacus as he stared brokenly at the shining, golden gauntlet. Tears rolled down his cheeks.  
Robbie, meanwhile, stewed in his paralysis at just how to help. He hopped over to Sportacus’s side and twisted himself to look at the elf.  
“I’m…I’m sorry, Sportacus.” Was what he offered, even though he wanted to say more.  
Sportacus sniffled and continued to stare.  
“Robbie, what am I supposed to believe? Everything, pretty much _everything_ I… _we_ were told…the prophecies, they aren’t true. I know this, but my brother…he’s alone right now, fighting the Darkness, and the armor he needs, it’s…it’s with me.” He continued, his voice near inaudible.  
His gaze returned to Robbie, and the weapon flinched at the broken, aching look in Sportacus’s eyes and how his face glistened with tears.  
“He _needs_ it more than me, but it chose me. Even if I brought it to him, there’s no guarantee he could use it. He’s out there believing that he’ll win once I return with the armor, and that’s _if_ I return in time and he hasn’t…hasn’t been…” He choked.  
“It’s okay, Sportacus.” Robbie said quietly.

With that, Sportacus melted once more into a fit of sobs and hiccups, him nearly curled into himself as he shook. He uttered desperate, near silent pleads of “I’m sorry” and “please forgive me” to, Robbie guessed, his brother.

“Sportacus, this…this isn’t your fault. None of this.” Robbie finally said.  
Sportacus looked up, a teary eye looking into the gemstone.  
“I just…don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to _believe_. I always thought, all this time, with my brother as the chosen hero that he’d be safe. No matter what happened, no matter what went wrong, he’d be okay. When he sent me away, I-I thought he’d be fine because the Goddess couldn’t let him die, right?”  
Another tear rolled down his face.  
“B-But, the armor chose me, which…which means _I’m_ the chosen hero. And if he’s not, there’s…there’s no guarantee he’s okay. I don’t know if he’s okay and I can’t trust in the prophecy to _believe_ that he’s okay and…and I’m sitting here with what he needs and I can’t go back yet without all the pieces of armor but if I don’t get to him soon he could be _dead_ and I – “  
“Sportacus, breathe!” Robbie urged.  
Sportacus, his face red, forced himself to stop and suck in deep breaths, his chest heaving and falling as he gasped for air. The tears kept rolling as he coughed and sobbed.  
“I-I’d fail him, Robbie. I’d fail him, because I wasn’t there for him. I stole his destiny already, I _can’t_ let him die as well!” He despaired.  
  
“Sportacus, you didn’t _steal_ your brother’s destiny. The prophecy? Clearly whoever wrote it made an error. You both were under the wrong impression, but that’s not either of your faults.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus sniffled as he cried.  
“Look, I can tell you’re a good person. You care a lot about your brother and you want to do the right thing. That’s…That’s great. Really, that’s awesome.” Robbie said. “But there was no way either of you two could’ve known what would happen. If none of the people for hundreds of years knew, how could you two have known? I know it feels like this is all your fault, but it’s not. None of this was.”  
Sportacus wiped the tears from his face.  
“Maybe, but my brother…what if – “  
“I don’t know.” Robbie admitted. “I don’t know, and I can’t…I couldn’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. We don’t know and won’t know about your brother until we reach Alfenheim. Until then, well, I think we have to trust that he’s okay. Did your kingdom train him?”  
“Of course.” Sportacus said with a sniff. “I-It was all he seemed to do.”  
“And you said something about him fighting with some elders. Are they strong?” asked Robbie.  
“The elders are powerful magic users. The two he went with, I think they were pretty strong.” Sportacus said quietly.  
“Then, well, I think your brother hedged his safety the best he could. He’s fighting with two other magic users and is a trained fighter. If anything, he’ll put up a good fight.” Robbie said thoughtfully.  
“And I wouldn’t doubt he would. I just…” Sportacus said as he dragged his knees to his chest.

He sighed, and another tear fell.

“I don’t like not _knowing_. By his side, I’d know if he was alive or not. Here…”

“You can’t help but worry.” Robbie finished for him.  
Sportacus nodded slowly.  
Robbie sighed sympathetically.  
“I know I need to believe that he’s alive and well, but it’s hard. It’s hard because…I’m scared. I’m scared knowing what the Darkness is like, and we’ve only faced a few of its creations while he’s facing its heart! It’s so many times worse and…and I can’t help but be afraid.” Sportacus said.  
He looked at Robbie.  
“I can’t lose my brother.”  
Robbie paused.  
After a moment he, awkwardly, tipped to the side and leaned against Sportacus.  
“Robbie?” asked Sportacus, concerned.  
“Shut up. This is the closest I can get to a hug like this.” Robbie stated.  
Sportacus, for the first time that day, gave a small, weak smile. With an unsure hand, he gently laid it against the sword’s hilt.  
“You’re dealing with a lot. I can tell. And I know that’s hard, and it’s not fair, and it’s painful. I’ll admit I have no clue what to say and I know there’s nothing I could say that would magically make you feel better.” Robbie said.  
“It’s okay, Robbie.”  
“It’s not though.” Robbie grumbled.  
He sighed.  
“I guess I’ll just say that, well, we’re friends, right? So just, please, tell me when you’re getting worried. I can try and help you, or at least listen if you need to vent. I won’t promise anymore hugs though. This is probably awkward for us both.”  
Sportacus chuckled quietly.  
“So, do you promise?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“I promise.” He said quietly.  
“Good.” Robbie said.

The two fell silent for a moment.

“Gods, I’m tired.” Robbie grumbled.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Same. I didn’t sleep well last night.” He said.  
“That’s pretty obvious.”  
“Thanks for the bluntness.” Sportacus said.  
“You’re welcome, always happy to help.” Said Robbie as he fell back against the ground.  
Sportacus chuckled and rolled his eyes. He yawned widely as he fell back against the ground as well.  
“Not even going to bother with a sleeping bag? Just sleep like a caveman or something?”  
“Too lazy.” Sportacus mumbled.  
“Woah. I think the universe just shattered. Are you feeling okay?” asked Robbie sarcastically.  
Sportacus chuckled quietly.  
“Robbie?” He said as his eyes began to flutter shut.  
“Hmm?”

Robbie turned just in time to see the pair of blue eyes, sleepily half-lidded, looking at him beyond drapes of blonde locks. Sportacus, clearly weary and nearing passed out, still smiled warmly at the weapon.  
“Thank you. Thank you for listening, and understanding, and…well, just for being there for me. I appreciate it.” He said quietly.

Robbie could feel something burn within him, and his words were stuck for a moment.  
“I, uh, sure. No problem.” He finally stuttered.  
Sportacus yawned and curled up.  
“Goodnight, Robbie.”  
Robbie laid back against the ground.  
“Right. Good night.” He said.  
The warm feeling was still there, and it was growing warmer the longer he acknowledged it.  
He had felt this feeling before, but not for a very long time. What was it?  
…Oh no.  
“ _Nope! No, we are_ not _going there! Not thinking it, not thinking it._ ” He thought frantically as he pushed Sportacus’s smile out of his mind.

He may have spoken about remaining hopeful, but he refused to entertain the thought for even a moment, which he struggled with until he finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly difficult to write and I'm still not sure if I got it where I want it. Admittedly the hardest thing to write was Sportacus's meltdown, mostly because of difficulties detailing Sportacus's feelings. I may go back and tweak things, but each time I say that I don't so hard to say if I will lol.
> 
> Nonetheless, hopefully you all enjoy this chapter. The next chapter will be a little different.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	11. The Farmhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief warning for this chapter, things get pretty intense towards the end. While I'm not sure it'll be a problem for anyone, I thought I'd still let you all know. Please tell me if you'd like me to add any tags or warnings to more properly warn people for the future. Thank you and enjoy!

The party of travelers were a weary and out of sorts group the next morning, but none were as bad as poor Loftskip. While Sportacus was able to mostly ignore his wounds for the sake of traveling and hurrying, the mare was a staggering mess with her wounded leg. Each step came with a slight jilt forward or to the side, the mare muttering and groaning from the mixture of weight and pain on her body. Sportacus had cleaned out her wound that morning and seen how bad it looked; even with the poultice, he worried about the chance of infection, and the wound was a mighty red color, radiating with a burning heat.

As much as they needed to hurry, Loftskip was in no condition to travel far that day.

Sportacus scanned the road they traveled on for a signpost of some kind. He hoped, perhaps, that a town would lay ahead.  
“There, I see one.” Robbie said, swinging himself to point to the slight left.  
Sportacus looked over where he was pointing and carefully read the sign.  
_Moss Fell, 1 mile.  
_ “Have you ever heard of this town?” asked Sportacus, looking down at the weapon.  
Robbie thought for a moment.  
“It seems familiar, but I’m not sure. It’s probably not a big town either way.” He noted.  
“It’ll have to do.” Sportacus sighed as he patted Loftskip’s neck. “Think you can make it one more mile, girl?”  
Loftskip snorted and glanced up at her rider. She looked weary, but willing.  
“I think that’s a yes. We’ll stop there then.” Sportacus said, leading Loftskip back to the path.  
“Hey, Sportacus, you think they’ll actually _have_ horse medicine? I mean, what if not?” asked Robbie.  
“I bet they will, or at least some kind of healing ointment. It’s hard to say.” Sportacus said.  
“Hmm, well,” Robbie said. “I mean, she’ll be okay, right? Either way?”  
Sportacus smiled at his weapon.  
“Glad to see you’re so worried about her.”  
“I’m not!” Robbie huffed. “I’m just…horses are expensive nowadays. Last thing we need is to buy another horse and drain our funds.”  
“Sure Robbie.” Sportacus said as he rolled his eyes. “I think she’ll be okay, and I’m sure she appreciates that you care about her so much.”  
“Hmph, whatever.” Muttered Robbie.

Sportacus chuckled as he led them ahead.

\--

To enter into the town of Moss Fell is to step into another world. At least, that’s most likely what some poet or writer would say if they visited, and it’s what Sportacus thought when the three approached the town.

Moss Fell was best described as sleepy, a small berg hiding amidst dreary skies and thin fog that pooled down from the tall, green mountains at its west. Fields of green, punctuated only by gray rocks covered in, appropriately, moss, laid a natural pathway towards the center of town. Its roads were built only of dirt, and the tracks of horses, sheep, cows, humans, and carts muddled and muddied them. Each step Loftskip took sunk slightly into the pliable, gooey earth as they rode.  
It was a quaint place, with buildings built of stone and wood with minimal sidings made of metal. Each of the houses looked slightly saggy, as if they too were aged and weary like the atmosphere of the town, with their whitewashes faded and chipped. Plumes of pale gray smoke furled from a few of the chimneys, yet the town itself showed little to no signs of life. The bleats of lambs and the banter of horses could be heard, but not an animal could be seen.  
All in all, it was a very strange place to Sportacus.  
“It’s so quiet. Where is everyone?” He pondered as he looked down at his sword.  
Robbie didn’t answer.  
“Robbie?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’m sorry, I was distracted.” Robbie said quickly. “It is very quiet here, you’re right.”  
“People are home, but I don’t see anyone in the streets.” Sportacus noted thoughtfully as he gently walked Loftskip through town.

The three walked down the road and between the rows of houses. All of the houses were in varying degrees of decay, with some pieces of land and homes outright abandoned. Windows were dotted with sizeable cracks and door were riddled with holes.  
“Geez, this place has seen better days.” Noted Robbie.  
They passed by more houses, with one lot downright empty, its building burnt to the ground and never cleaned up. A lone apple tree, singed and empty of its leaves, sat forlornly in front of it.  
“I wonder what happened there?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie remained quiet, so Sportacus continued on.  
They finally chanced upon a man in the streets. He seemed in his thirties, and he was carrying a sizeable basket of hay on his back.  
“Excuse me, but would you be willing to help me, sir? My horse is very hurt and needs medical attention.” Sportacus asked, then gestured to the wound on Loftskip’s hind.  
The man looked over and cringed at the wound. He sighed and shook his head.  
“Sorry sir, I don’t even have a horse, much less medicine for one.” He answered.  
He set down his basket.  
“I’d recommend seeing the mayor over that way. You can’t miss his home, it’s the larger of the buildings to the east, the one with the nice paint. He owns a stable, so I imagine he’d have medicine too.”  
“Thank you, sir. Can we help you with your basket?” asked Sportacus.  
“That’d be kind of you. Thank you.” Said the man.

Indeed, the mayor’s home, in comparison to the rest of the town, was quite opulent. A three-story building that was a sight of white and red trim, Sportacus was welcomed by a young maid who led him to the mayor’s study.  
The mayor, an older man with gray mixed in his red beard, was welcoming and warm. Sportacus explained his trials and his quest, which quite surprised the mayor.  
“You must understand that we have few travelers that pass through here, much less ones like yourself. I’d be more than happy to oblige by helping treat your horse.” He answered.  
“Thank you, sir.” Sportacus said with a smile. “Though I hate to ask something else of you, but would you happen to have a room to spare? I imagine Loftskip will need the night to rest so we won’t be leaving until tomorrow.”  
This caused the mayor’s smile to fade, and he sadly shook his head.  
“It’s a strange time for Moss Fell. We have so little happening here I’d usually answer yes. But, unfortunately, I’m expecting a delegation from the larger towns by the coast. All my rooms are taken for the evening. My apologies.”  
“It’s alright, sir. I’m sure I can find someone in town to lodge with. I have money.” Sportacus said as he stood up.  
The mayor looked down thoughtfully before he snapped his fingers.  
“I may have someone in mind for you. Out to the farthest eastern point of town lives a man named Húmi. He has a small piece of land and may let you lodge with him if you agree to work for him for the day. I warn you though, he’s an old piece of work. He may need some coaxing to agree to you staying with him.”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“And, if you can convince him to stay with you, please check in on him. He’s grown very quiet lately and I worry about him.” The mayor asked more quietly.  
“I will, sir. Thank you again.” Sportacus said, before he turned and left.

Loftskip was taken by one of the mayor’s stable workers as Sportacus and Robbie left to find the mysterious Húmi to the east. Sportacus looked about as they did, gazing at the other, slightly run-down homes.  
“I wonder what happened here. These homes look like they were pretty nice at some point.” Sportacus pondered, before he stopped in front of one home.  
By its front door was carved a mysterious symbol. It looked like a circle with several etchings in its middle and sides. He felt it with his hand and jumped back as a weak charge surged into his fingers.  
“Magic seal. I wonder whose?” asked Sportacus to no one in particular.  
The two eventually set off again. Robbie stared the longest at the seal before turning away himself.

Down the road they finally reached Húmi’s home. It, like the other houses in town, was a two-story building with whitewashed walls and a faded red roof. There was a sizeable land around the property, but much looked unused and abandoned. A few sheep idled about, grazing at the tufts of grass on the sides of the fence or sitting in the dirt and staring lazily at the newcomers.  
Sitting on the steps was a man, an older man with a short, gray beard. His head was covered by a cap and perched between his lips sat a wooden pipe, from which he currently took long drags from as he watched his sheep.  
Sportacus, despite seeing the casualness of the man, felt slightly intimidated. If this was Húmi, and Húmi was anything like some of the farmers back in Alfenheim, he knew they were a tough lot and the mayor had already warned him of his roughness. He cleared his throat and walked forward, with the man in question not even turning to look at him.  
“Good day. Are you Húmi?” asked Sportacus.  
The man exhaled a long drag of smoke before he slowly turned. Two blue-green eyes stared straight into Sportacus’s, and the man scrutinized him quietly.  
“That is I, Húmi of Þokufell. But who is asking?” He asked.  
“I’m Sportacus of, um, Alfenheim.” Sportacus said before pointing to his sword. “And this is my companion, Robbie.”  
Húmi glanced down at the sword with a furrowed brow.  
Robbie, feeling scrutinized, gulped audibly.  
“A magic sword.” Húmi said finally. “Dense of you to bring magic to this town, but I suppose it was bound to happen. State your business, Sportacus of Alfenheim.”  
“W-Well, I was asked by the mayor to look for you. My mare was injured by some bandits on my way to the Kingdom of Spoilero and is being cared for. I was hoping to lodge with you for the evening. I can pay, of course, or work, whichever you prefer.” He answered.

Húmi took another drag from his pipe and exhaled, the smoke blowing into Sportacus’s face. Sportacus coughed and cringed at the pungent fumes but held back from waving the smell away.  
Húmi chuckled quietly at the sight, a smile not presenting itself.  
“I was about to ask if you have experience with farm work, but your reaction tells me everything. Not one person I know who works with sheep dislikes the smell of good tobacco. You’re a city boy, aren’t you?” He asked.  
Sportacus nodded reluctantly.  
“Well, I have no use for city boys. I would need someone good with the land and good with animals, but men from the city are simply unreliable. Dogs? Fine. Horses? Some have a way. But the city folk are toddlers when it comes to sheep.” Húmi said as he stood back up, grunting as he did.  
Sportacus followed after the farmer.  
“Please sir, just give me a chance. It doesn’t have to be farm work; I could help around the house instead!” Sportacus offered.  
Húmi stopped and quirked an eyebrow at Sportacus’s offer. He chewed on the end of his pipe as he thought.  
“You must be desperate to offer a knight like yourself for _that_ sort of menial work. Very well, you may stay for the night. But only for tonight. I’m not in the mood nor the place to take on long-term boarders.” Húmi stated as he whistled for his dog.  
Sportacus smiled until the man turned back around.  
“The door’s unlocked. You can start with sweeping. The floor needs it.” Húmi said before he walked off towards his flocks.

Sportacus nodded, then looked at Robbie as soon as Húmi was a decent distance away, his look unsure.  
“We still have time, you know. This man is a bit cranky, and I’m sure there’s someone else we could stay with instead.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“If the mayor wants us to stay with him, then we will stay.” Sportacus said.  
“Well fine, but if he asks you to start cleaning his toilet, just walk away please.” Robbie said.

Sportacus laughed quietly and walked towards the house.

\--

Sportacus soon learned that Húmi truly meant it when he said the floor desperately needed cleaning. The wood boards were caked with a rather formidable layer of dried mud and gods know what else (Sportacus wouldn’t entertain the possibilities) that resulted in over an hour of scrubbing just to get the initial muck off to expose the wood. It kicked up rather fierce clouds of dust and particulate mud that choked Sportacus and left him coughing.

Opening the back door seemed to alleviate the issue slightly, as well as allowed Sportacus a sight of the farmer at work.  
As he applied a liberal amount of soapy water to the floorboards, he could see Húmi tending to his flock. He could see him chasing after them with his dog, who loyally followed behind while nipping and barking at the sheep. A few times he saw him kneel next to his sheep and feed them something strange and tarry looking, like a clump of darker grass. Other times he was combing through their wool with a scrutinizing eye.  
“ _I’m certain I could’ve at least helped with the gathering of the sheep._ ” He thought to himself for a moment as he scrubbed the wood harder.  
Several times he noticed Húmi stop and simply stare at the distant hills far to the east. Sportacus couldn’t see his expression, but the man’s gaze seemed near unbreakable, with only his trusty dog capable of even slightly denting his focus.  
Húmi returned at some point in the afternoon. By that time the floorboards were near shining while Sportacus could feel a new ache in his body, though mostly in his wounded arm.  
“Floor is finished. Is there anything else you’d like me to help with?” asked Sportacus.  
“Preferably something that does _not_ result in near suffocation?” added Robbie, which earned him a slightly bump from Sportacus.  
Húmi sat at the table and sprinkled some fresh tobacco into his pipe. Lighting it, he took a puff before he shook his head.  
“Not at the moment. Come, take a load off. I have the kettle on; I can prepare some butter sandwiches if you’d like that too.”  He said, gesturing to a smaller chair by his side.

Sportacus secretly felt relieved as he put down the broom and pail. He walked over with a slight wobble in his legs and sat in the chair. For the first time, he got a good look at the dining table, which was quaint and rounder than long.  
He also noticed, for the first time, that there were three chairs situated around the table.  
His brow furrowed as he noticed, until his attention was drawn away by the appearance of a cup filled with steaming hot coffee.  
He took a sip, and immediately decided that a heated cup of dirt might be a slight improvement over coffee.  
The bite of butter sandwich was slightly better, but it left Sportacus longing for some vegetables or meats to compliment the rather dense bread.  
Nevertheless, he continued to eat the bread he was given and sip the coffee. He felt it’d be rude to deny the food given by the host.  
Húmi, meanwhile, had set his pipe to the side and was occupied with taking long sips from his own coffee. He had mostly remained focused on his meal, and thus slightly startled Sportacus once he finally addressed him.  
“I’ve never seen armor like yours. Quite fancy, looks extravagant. Who crafted it?” He asked.  
“No man crafted it. It’s the Blessed Goddess of Light’s craftsmanship. It’s her tool for me to use to defeat the Darkness.”  
Húmi scoffed.  
“Surely you don’t want me to believe that hogwash about dark magics and evil spirits plaguing the mountains like all those wishy-washy travelers and scholars? I find that rather improper.”  
“You haven’t heard or seen any signs? The Darkness has been present for some time now, and not far from you.” Asked Sportacus in shock.  
“What I know and what is important to me rests within my flock and my family. The rest of the world could up and burn for all I care as long as my family is alive and well, and my flock is healthy and worm-free.” Húmi said simply as he took a sip of his coffee.  
“Seems rather dark and apathetic.”  
“I just know where my priorities lie and worrying endlessly about fairytales and hobgoblins under rocks with pointed ears and teeth is simply not one of them. They hold no dominion over me, and thus they don’t deserve my acknowledgement.” Húmi answered.  
“Very well then.” Sportacus responded, not wishing to argue.

The conversation fell silent again for a time. In that while, Sportacus preoccupied himself with looking around the kitchen/dining room. The best word to describe that particular room was rustic, with a stone fireplace that held a cast iron pot hung over burnt kindling. Wooden shelves dotted the room and were filled with different kitchen implements and dishware.  
Atop one shelf sat what looked like the nicest item in the house: a silver hairbrush with fine hairs for smoothing out knots. A small piece of jewelry, a necklace, sat next to the brush, along with a small stack of papers.  
Sportacus eyed those items as he sipped his coffee. At that moment, his wound decided to act up again, twinging hard and nearly forcing Sportacus to drop his cup of dreadful liquid.  
Húmi glanced over with a raised eyebrow.  
“Are you alright there?”  
“Y-Yes, just a wound acting up.” Said Sportacus through gritted teeth.  
He rolled up his shirt sleeve and glanced at the stained gauze. He cringed when he pulled back the bandage and was greeted with a rather angry looking wound that seethed red and purple.  
Húmi frowned at the sight himself.  
“Did you spread a poultice over that? It looks like a rather nasty wound.” He asked.  
“Yes, I did. It doesn’t seem to have worked though.” Sportacus hissed as he attempted to touch the skin around his wound.  
“Now don’t go poking it like that. It won’t do you any good. Wait here.” Said Húmi as he stood up and walked towards a slightly crooked cabinet.  
When he returned he was carrying a small, brown bottle of something as well as a fresh roll of gauze. He gestured for Sportacus to come closer as he dabbed a towel into the bottle. The solution was a strange brown color and smelled strongly of medicinal herbs. He dabbed some of the mixture onto Sportacus’s open wound and, immediately, his arm was buzzing with a sensation of icy yet burning pain simultaneously.  
“Ah!” gasped Sportacus.  
“Afraid this’ll hurt a bit. Your wound’s starting to show signs of infection, so the poultice will have to work double as hard to heal you. You’re strong though, I imagine you’ll manage.” Explained Húmi as he dabbed more poultice onto Sportacus’s arm.  
Sportacus nodded but nonetheless kept his mouth shut as he tried to focus on something other than the grave discomfort from the poultice. He looked back towards the shelf and focused on the hairbrush.  
He thought of something Húmi mentioned earlier.  
“You said you had a family, right? Where is everyone else?” He asked.

Húmi stopped. He, after a moment, laid the rag back on the table and sighed, his hands grasping his thighs.  
“I-I’m sorry, did I - ?” Sportacus started.  
“I _have_ a family.” Said Húmi gruffly. “My wife, Eyrún, formerly of Græn Ána, who I have been married to for several years. And my one daughter, Íselín, who’s just about seventeen now and named after Eyrún’s grandmother.”  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply they were gone.” Sportacus said.  
Húmi shook his head.  
“Hmph, I understand. You don’t seem like you’d purposely imply anything about someone.” He said as he picked up the rag once more.  
He continued patting at Sportacus’s wound before he spoke.  
“My wife and daughter left three weeks ago for a trip. They had set out to buy some supplies for the home: soaps, animal fats, fabric, various food things including coffee and sugar, and something pretty for Íselín to tie her hair with. You probably saw there aren’t many options concerning shopping in our town, so they must travel several days out to a far-off settlement where they have better trading connections.”  
“Did there used to be? Better things for sale, I mean.” Asked Sportacus.  
“Oh, some say hundreds of years ago things were prosperous here, but I of course couldn’t see a penny of it.” Húmi stated. “Local legend says that everything was ruined by a mage who used to live here and used dark magic on the citizens. I don’t believe a word of that, though, as those fools deserved to have things ruined if they let some two-bit magician run any sort of power in this town. Best we don’t have mages here after that, but nonetheless things here haven’t seen much trade for centuries.”  
“I see.” Said Sportacus as he sipped more coffee. “But you said your wife and daughter have been gone for weeks? Shouldn’t they have returned by now?”  
“The weather has been rough.” Replied Húmi quickly and roughly as he snipped a length of fresh cloth. “Or maybe a donkey cart overturned and blocked the road with their corpses. Either way, I refuse to entertain anything dark as to why they aren’t back yet. The two are resourceful, strong, and independent women who I know are coming back.”  
“I never implied anything like that.” Stated Sportacus softly.  
Húmi paused in the middle of re-wrapping Sportacus’s wound. He frowned and gave it a sharp and tight tug as he knotted the long ends.  
“There, you’re fixed up. I’ll show you to your room, so you can better settle in.” He grumbled as he stood and collected his pipe.

Sportacus looked at the man worriedly as he followed him up the stairs.

\--

Sportacus’s room was a quaint one that matched the rest of the house. The little square of a room was just big enough to hold a twin-size bed, a writing desk, and a shelf for books. A single, square window framed the back wall and highlighted the dust floating in the air. Tattered curtains of faded green fabric framed said window.

Sportacus had just set aside his armor in the corner and settled onto the bed. He coughed as his sitting stirred a cloud of dust. Clearly this room hadn’t been occupied in some time.  
“Our host is quite a peach, isn’t he?” remarked Robbie, who sat against the wall.  
Sportacus frowned disapprovingly.  
“I’m thinking something else is up, most likely about his wife and daughter. I doubt he’s trying to be rude.” He answered.  
“If this is him not trying to be rude, I’d rather not see what he’s like when he actually wants to be.” Said Robbie. “And the part about the Darkness, what kind of doom-mongering trip is he on? I didn’t know there were people who could _afford_ to believe dark magic is a fairytale still around.”  
“Clearly it’s working for him, for whatever agenda he’s on.” Answered Sportacus tiredly as he fell against the bed, kicking up more dust that made him cough.  
“Agenda? I highly doubt it’s that complicated. Probably more denial, which is the stupidest thing to have about now.”  
“You also forget we’ve _seen_ a lot more of the Darkness’s power than Húmi probably has.”  
“Fair, he doesn’t strike me as the adventuring type. Still, I figured most people would err on the safe side and abstain from goading an all-powerful, malevolent force by calling it ‘hogwash’.” Robbie said.  
“He seems like the type to naturally doubt anything that isn’t sheep related, so I figure it’s just how he is.”  
“I suppose.” Said Robbie.

The two sat there for a time.

“You were pretty quiet down there. I’m a little surprised you didn’t speak up at least once, given how you don’t seem particularly friendly towards our host.” Sportacus noted.  
Robbie hmphed.  
“Sure, I could’ve said something, but I figured whatever I was thinking wasn’t worth sleeping on the ground again when we had the potential of a real bed. Not that it matters to me, of course, I sleep against a wall most days.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“But really, I guess I was thinking.”  
“About what?”  
“About,” Robbie sighed. “it’s kind of weird but, do you ever have a weird feeling of…I don’t know, déjà vu?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Like when you enter a town and you get this sense you’ve been there before, but you can’t quite reach a solid enough memory to state decisively yes or no?”  
“Well, given that I lived in the same house and same kingdom my entire life, I’m afraid not really.” Sportacus said with a small smile.  
“Great, yeah, didn’t think you’d understand.” Robbie mumbled.  
“I can still try you know.”  
“Fine, well I’m getting that feeling right now.”  
“Oh?”  
Robbie sighed again.  
“Yeah. Things here feel familiar, but I’m not sure why. On one hand, it’s familiar here, but it’s too blurry for me to remember if this town was just similar to another town I lived in. On the other hand, maybe I’m imagining things.”  
“Or you did live here.”  
“Must’ve been a very long time ago if I did.” Noted Robbie quietly.  
“Did any of the houses look familiar to you? Maybe one was yours.”  
“Nope.”  
Sportacus rolled onto his side.  
“Was there anything that specifically made you feel like this? Maybe something here triggered a memory.”  
Robbie muttered and made thinking noises.  
“That apple tree, I think. That caught my attention, but I don’t know it’s not like apple trees are uncommon. They grow in most towns, so that’s not helpful.”  
“But that _specific_ apple tree caught your attention, so maybe it _is_ helpful?” suggested Sportacus.  
“I don’t know.” Said Robbie exasperatedly. “I think I’m done thinking about this. I’m getting a headache.  
Sportacus frowned but nodded nonetheless.  
“Okay Robbie.”

Sportacus rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling quietly. He could see some cracks formed in the ceiling, but only small ones that form in aged houses, nothing of concern. He tapped his fingers against his chest.  
“Húmi seemed pretty upset before he led us up here.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus rolled back onto his side.  
“Well, wouldn’t you be? He’s clearly worried about his wife and daughter.”  
“Of course I would be. I’m just wondering about them myself.”  
“About whether they’re okay or not?”  
“Yeah.”  
Sportacus sighed sadly as his gaze drifted to the floor.  
“Think there’s anything we could do?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus looked back at him.  
“I’m a little surprised to hear you suggest that.”  
“I’m not going to ignore two missing people, Sportacus. Geez, give me a little credit. You must think nothing of me, don’t you?” said Robbie.  
“Not true! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”  
“It’s fine.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus chewed on his bottom lip.  
“I…I hope they’re okay. Maybe they’ll show up this evening at dinner?” He suggested.  
“Now wouldn’t that be lucky.” Noted Robbie doubtfully.  
Sportacus looked down with a sad, thoughtful expression.  
“I can’t imagine how he feels.” He said softly.  
“No?”  
“Well, I can sympathize.” Sportacus explained. “I…I just can’t fathom how much fear, sadness, and anger I’d feel. I’d be going crazy.”  
“Who’s to say he isn’t going a little crazy already?” suggested Robbie darkly. “All the cursing of the Darkness, it could be him fighting with a pretty easy target to blame for their disappearances. And what better way to spit in its face than to decree their nonexistence?”  
“I suppose so.” Noted Sportacus quietly. “Not to say it isn’t a depressing thought.”  
“I specialize in those.” Robbie said with false pride. “I make them on demand too if you’re interested.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“I think I’m good.”  
“Darn, well you know where to find me.”

Sportacus’s smile faded as his thoughts returned to his lodger. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about the expression Húmi held as well as his standoffishness.  
A knock rapped against the door, which made Sportacus sit up.  
“Hello?” asked Sportacus.  
“Have you settled in?”  
Sportacus gave a small smile.  
“I have, thank you. The room is lovely.”  
“Apologies for the dust.” Answered Húmi. “I hate to ask something else from you after you cleaned my floors, but part of my flock is in the outer fields. I need to retrieve them. I’d appreciate it if you’d start the dinner, I have the ingredients ready downstairs.”  
“Of course, no problem at all.” Said Sportacus as he swung his legs over. “I’ll be right down.”  
Húmi made a small noise of approval before Sportacus heard his footsteps sound out, growing quieter as he went down the stairs.  
“He seems to be better than earlier.” Robbie noted.  
“Enough of that.” Sportacus quietly chastised.  
“I didn’t say anything mean!”  
“Yes, but I’m stopping you before you do.”  
“Sheesh, no faith in me at all I see.”

Sportacus didn’t answer as he left the room.

\--

By the time Sportacus had finished making dinner, Húmi returned looking worn and bedraggled. While his expression perked up slightly at the smells swirling in the warm kitchen, his face remained as stoic as ever. He didn’t speak to Sportacus as he took a seat at the table, and he only asked a single question as Sportacus served him a bowl of fish stew.  
“How’s your arm?”  
Sportacus looked over as he poured his own bowl of stew.  
“Oh, I really haven’t thought about it since you treated it. It feels pretty comfortable.” Sportacus answered.  
Húmi nodded.  
“That poultice is made of the wild plants and herbs that grow on my land. I found several winters ago that mixing them together with some well water creates the most potent medicine.” He explained before gesturing to the table. “In fact, nearly all the food on this table is from my land. The fish is from the ponds on my land, and the root vegetables are grown by my wife and I. It’s truly the only meal fit for a strong family like mine.”

It’s from this proud statement that Sportacus didn’t feel comfortable mentioning how mushy the fish meat was nor the blandness of the tubers. While one could blame it on Sportacus’s cooking, he had followed a recipe he found lying on the counter, one that he assumed was written by Eyrún and, thus, the preferred form of consuming said meals fit for strong families.

Dinner was followed by the required washing and drying of dishware. Sportacus had assumed that said washing would be shortly followed by everyone returning to their rooms to adjourn for the night. He was mistaken once he heard Húmi clear his throat.  
Sportacus set down his rag and turned. When he did, he saw Húmi holding a fiddle in his hand, sans bow.  
The man’s gaze seemed far more contemplative as he tuned his instrument. When he looked over to Sportacus he gestured the man over to him.  
“You play the fiddle?” asked Sportacus.  
“Each man needs something to nourish the soul. I personally find my peace in this fiddle.” Answered Húmi as he gave it an experimental strum.  
The sound was sweet and near haunting.  
He sighed.  
“Do you know any songs?” asked Sportacus.  
Húmi frowned and shook his head.  
“That was the job of my wife. She has a knack for poetry and song. I can strum, so strum I will.” He said as he plucked a few strings and played a slow melody.  
Sportacus listened in hopes of distracting himself from the awkwardness.  
The melody grew quieter as the man sighed softly.  
“My dear Eyrún, I wooed her with this fiddle. At the time I was a young lad and she a young lady. Even in our youth however I could tell she was a strong, independent sort like I wanted to be. That’s why we work so well. We wish to be beholden to no one and that’s what we are. At most, we are beholden to each other. She is my strength, and I am hers. She is my spirit, and so I am hers.”  
His gaze lowered.  
“She has my love, and I have hers, and we’ll always have that for each other.” He added.  
Sportacus’s ears drooped.  
Húmi looked back up.  
“Sportacus of Alfenheim, are you beholden to someone? Who is your strength and spirit?” He asked.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and he bit his lip.  
“Well, to be honest, I’ve not met anyone like that yet. Suppose I’ve been busy.”  
“Of course.” Said Húmi, his gaze directing to Robbie. “And you? I guess you were human once?”  
“W-Well, yes.” Robbie answered quickly. “I mean, I was human. AM human. Uh, but no, I don’t think so.”  
Húmi strummed his fiddle once.  
“Hmm, I see.” He mumbled as he looked down thoughtfully. “Perhaps I was a little unclear; beholden doesn’t necessarily mean always a romantic sort of feeling. Oh, certainly my wife and I are beholden in that sense, but we’re beholden as partners as well.”  
“So, you’re asking if we have friends?” asked Robbie.  
“Yes and no. I more guessed that you two would name each other.” Said Húmi.

“W-What??” Robbie stuttered.  
Sportacus looked a little stunned as well, perhaps a little pink too.  
“In the non-romantic sense I mean. Goodness, while I don’t judge, I’m also not to type to assume relationships, especially one involving a currently inanimate object.” Húmi huffed.  
“Ah right.” Said Sportacus, sighing.  
Robbie, too, sighed in relief.  
“So?” asked Húmi.  
Sportacus looked over at Robbie with thinned lips.  
Robbie waited quietly.  
“I…I believe so. I trust Robbie to protect me.” Sportacus finally answered.  
“You do? After everything?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Oh.” Robbie said softly.  
“Do you trust me?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie paused.  
“Well…yes. I mean you haven’t died yet so that’s a good sign that you can keep me in one piece.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“But in all seriousness…I trust you too.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus smiled in response.  
“Hmm, good. Nothing worthwhile in a warrior that can’t trust his own weapon.” Húmi said simply as he set his fiddle aside and started towards the door.  
“Where are you going?” asked Sportacus.  
“To bed.”  
“But the bedrooms are upstairs?”  
“I have my bed out back.” Húmi stated as he pointed towards a small _torfbæir_ standing a few feet away. “The sheep need my company.”  
“They do?” asked Sportacus.  
“Yes.” Húmi said firmly as he snatched up his fiddle once more. “Good night, gentlemen.”

Before Sportacus could ask another question, Húmi had vanished out the back door. He could see a light illuminate the inside of the little house.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned.  
“Abrupt.” Robbie noted.  
“No kidding.” Said Sportacus. “I wonder why Húmi…”  
He stopped.  
“Why he…?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“Never mind, we should go to bed too.”

\--

There was an alder tree outside Sportacus’s window that creaked horribly in the evening wind.

The shadows from its branches stretched and reached across the floor, clawing at the bed and the walls with immaterial nails.

A low whistle punctuated the wind and left a shiver in his spine.

Restless, Sportacus woke from another nightmare, but not of his home. He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling covered in tree claws as he thought through the latest trip through the realm of nightmares.  
Strangely, nothing seemed material.  
Just images of shadow, of darkness, of pitch.  
Then a pair of eyes.  
And a gaped mouth that gurgled and croaked.  
And a voice, too small to be understand or clearly heard.  
He’d heard and seen this all four times tonight.

Another whistle from the wind urged Sportacus to get up, which he did. He didn’t think he wanted to see that nightmare again, and if he couldn’t sleep peacefully, he might as well remain awake.  
He looked towards the door and thought a moment.  
“ _Maybe some fresh air would help_.” He thought.  
As he started towards the door, another creak from the alder tree made him freeze. He turned and looked at the menacing plant, whose fingertips tapped against the glass.  
He shivered, and his gaze fell to his chestplate and gauntlets, which sat in the corner of the room.  
He bit his lip.  
“ _Perhaps, just for tonight, some protection would be helpful_.” He thought.  
Creeping over, he slipped on his armor, which clinked just enough to stir his weapon, who’d been sleeping uneasily against the wall.  
“Sportacus? What are you doing up?” Robbie asked groggily. “Wait, why are you putting on your armor?”  
Sportacus cringed and shrugged.  
“Just thought a walk would help.”  
“And the armor?”  
“Uh…”  
“Spooked?”  
Sportacus sheepishly nodded.  
“Nightmares?”  
“You too?”  
“Yup.” Said Robbie as he hopped on over. “I think something’s coming.”  
Sportacus scooped him up and reattached the sheath to his belt.  
“I’m feeling the same way, but I’m not sure _what’s_ coming.”  
“Well if we’re both having nightmares about…darkness and eyes?”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Well we’re having the same nightmares so it can’t be anything good.”  
“You think we’ll have to fight?”  
“I wouldn’t throw any possibility out at this point.”  
Sportacus tapped his chin.  
“We should warn Húmi.” He said, as he walked out the bedroom.

The two descended the stairs and walked out the back door. Sportacus glanced about and looked at the long fields that stretched from the house. At night, the once serene and idyllic pastures held an eerie menace to them, not helped by the thick fog that had descended from the mountains.  
Sportacus stepped outside the house with a feeling of trepidation.  
His hand lingered by the grip of his sword as he looked about, scanning the area for anything unusual.  
A sheep bleated, and in the distance he could hear a wolf howl.  
His body slackened as his ears tuned to the surroundings.  
Nothing.  
He sighed and his hand fell from his sword.  
“ _Nothing. I guess I’m just frightening myself._ ” Thought Sportacus.  
“You’re out late.”  
Sportacus yelped and turned around, his widened eyes relaxing once he noticed Húmi standing there, his gaze tired and skin looking paler.  
“I could say the same for you.”  
Húmi nodded.  
“I heard something and wanted to check on the sheep. The last thing I need is a blasted burglar taking one of my prized rams.” He answered.  
“Well, Robbie and I had some nightmares.” Sportacus explained. “We think… _something_ is coming.”  
“Oh? Of what sort?”  
“Um, maybe of an _evil_ sort? Magic evil?” suggested Sportacus weakly.  
Húmi frowned.  
“Humph, your damned superstitions again. We’re in no sort of trouble.”  
“How can you say that?! I’ve _fought_ the Darkness’s creations and they weren’t too many days off from here!” Sportacus protested.  
“Because _what_ purpose would a damned god of darkness have with a town like ours? Even if there was such a threat, it wouldn’t be here. I’d suggest you stop blundering about with your worries and just – “  
“Um, sorry to interrupt, but I think I see something.” Robbie said, tapping Sportacus’s leg.

The two men spun around to face the fog that seemed to only grow thicker since Sportacus left the house. Robbie pointed the tip of the blade towards a space in the fog, and both men squinted at the spot carefully.  
It was, at first, difficult to see anything.  
But after a moment, both could make out two shapes lumbering in the fog.  
One looked about the size of an adult human, the other slightly smaller, and both bipedal.  
Húmi’s eyes widened slightly and a small smile crossed his face. He looked at Sportacus and smiled smugly.  
“Ah, what did I tell you? Nothing to worry about! I knew it, it’s my dear wife and daughter coming home!” He said happily.  
Sportacus, however, remained uneasy. He continued to stare at the figures in the fog.  
“Húmi…” He said warningly, his hand grazing at his sword’s grip.  
“Steady yourself there, warrior. No need for bloodshed. My family has returned and it’s time for you to meet them.” Said Húmi as he started towards the two, gradually approaching figures.  
“Húmi, wait,” Sportacus said, grabbing the man’s shoulder. “this doesn’t feel right.”  
Húmi frowned angrily.  
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me! And how dare you insinuate anything ill in this time! My wife and daughter are here, and I won’t let you spoil this moment with your idle fearfulness!” He responded as he yanked himself away and continued towards the two.  
“Húmi! No!” Sportacus called.  
“Eyrún! Íselín! You two took your time, didn’t you? For a moment I was worried, but I knew you’d both come home!” called Húmi with a chuckle.  
The two figures didn’t respond, nor pick up their pace. They continued to lumber silently forward.  
“Ah, you two, can’t even spare a hug for me? Not a hello? You must both be tired.” Húmi said with his hands in his pockets. “I imagine you both found some lovely trinkets, hmm? Found something that caught your – “

It was only then that Húmi noticed something.  
He paused and looked at the two figures again.  
They were… _dripping_.  
“Eyrún? Íselín?” He asked again.  
Sportacus, back behind him, pulled his sword in preparation.  
The two figures finally emerged fully from the fog.  
“… _oh gods_.” Sportacus uttered in horror, his face going white and his expression deadening.  
Húmi remained silent.

Eyrún emerged first from the fog, her arms outstretched towards Húmi and her mouth gaped in a slacked way, her expression empty and her long, blonde hair tangled and oily. She staggered forward, and Sportacus realized that half of her…was _missing_.  
A near half of her body was covered, no _consumed_ , by pulsating, oozing, _moving_ , dark goo. The Darkness’s goo.  
Her daughter stumbled out of the fog next in a similar condition, a tattered ribbon shining in her red hair.  
Both women lurched forward, their eyes dead of life and devoid of expression. Fat blobs of acidic Darkness dripped and plopped onto the green grass and instantly killed it, and the coiling Darkness that covered them swirled and curled around them. Threads of black stems rose from the thickest blobs of Darkness on their shoulders and reached towards the farmer.  
Húmi, meanwhile, could only stare in silent, icy, _horror_.  
“Watch out!” cried Sportacus as he rushed forward. With his sword he sliced away the first dozen tendrils that reached towards Húmi, the dried bits falling to the ground and disintegrating.  
Sportacus turned just in time for Íselín to shove him to the side, a croaky gurgle escaping her throat. He grunted as he hit the ground, and just before Íselín could reach for him he lifted his sword in defense.  
However, he could not strike. Instead, he batted her away with the flat edge of the sword, which tumbled her to the earth.  
Húmi, meanwhile, was still petrified.  
“My Eyrún…” He said in near silence.  
“My love…” responded Eyrún, her voice too hollow, too deep, too dry, as she reached towards Húmi.  
“What happened – “started Húmi.  
“Húmi!” shouted Sportacus as he leapt to his feet. He shoved Húmi away from his wife in time as she lifted her arms and slammed them down against Sportacus’s blade.  
The Darkness surrounding her crackled and hissed, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as some of the Darkness dissolved.  
“Don’t hurt her!” begged Húmi as he watched helplessly.  
“Father…” muttered Íselín in the same voice as her mother as she crawled towards him.  
His attention snapped to his daughter, and his expression near broke.  
“Íselín…” He whispered.  
Sportacus shoved Eyrún away and ran to Húmi’s side. He pulled him away from his daughter’s grasp and lifted him onto his feet.

The two backed away as Eyrún and Íselín continued to drag themselves after them, their mouths hanging open and their movements stiff and labored.  
Húmi continued to stare in terror.  
Sportacus, while also terrified, lifted his sword reluctantly to charge after them.  
“Don’t!” begged Húmi as he grabbed Sportacus’s arm and yanked away Robbie.  
“Húmi, I have to! Your wife and daughter are…are… _corrupted_ by the Darkness!” Sportacus explained.  
“They’re still my wife and daughter! I don’t care what they are, I won’t allow you to hurt them!” Húmi argued, his expression breaking.  
“Húmi…” said Sportacus sadly.  
“Húmi, my love, come to us…” gurgled Eyrún hollowly as she extended her arms. “…we’ve missed you.”  
Sportacus yanked Robbie from Húmi as he stood there in horror.  
“Sportacus, what are we going to do?” asked Robbie sadly.  
Sportacus looked at him with a conflicted expression.  
“They’re p-possessed, Robbie. I’m not sure if they’re even in there anymore.” Sportacus said in a near whisper.  
He looked at them and nearly teared up.  
“B-But…” He said as he lifted his sword. “I-I can’t.”  
Robbie slipped from his grasp and clanked against the ground.  
“Sportacus!” called Robbie.  
“I can’t! I can’t, Robbie!” Sportacus cried as he buried his face in his hands.  
“Sportacus! Please! W-We…” Robbie started, before he stopped.

He paused.

“We…we don’t have to.” Said Robbie quietly. “There has to be another way.”  
Sportacus stopped and lifted his face from his hands. He looked at the two corrupted people and thought. Reaching down, he lifted up Robbie.  
He sheathed him once more.  
“Neither of us can slay you, Darkness.” Said Sportacus.  
Eyrún and Íselín stared at him, the ooze surrounding them gurgling and bubbling.  
Sportacus closed his eyes and took a breath.  
He exhaled, and a slight chime rang through the air.  
His armor, and him, started to glow.  
Eyrún and Íselín hissed and growled at the golden light, their arms lifting to shield their eyes and faces.  
Sportacus opened his eyes, and they held that same golden glint.  
“ _No, no we won’t slay you Darkness. We won’t give you what you’re looking for._ ” Said Sportacus, his voice now holding the tone of multiple voices including, most prominently, a feminine one, echoing with his own.  
The glow encapsulating him, he stepped forward.  
With his step, both of the corrupted stepped back.  
Another step forward.  
Another step back.  
“ _You’ve taken two innocent lives in your cruel and horrible resurrection, Darkness. You’ve taken two of my children. This ends now._ ” Stated Sportacus with a voice both threatening yet sorrowful.  
Eyrún and Íselín kept stepping back until Sportacus was too close to move away from. Both shrieked and hissed at him.  
Sportacus remained unmoved. He looked softly at Eyrún, who he stood in front of.  
She hissed at him.  
He responded by gently cupping her face.  
“ _Eyrún of Þokufell, you have suffered greatly. It is time for you to rest, my dear._ ” Said Sportacus with a sorrowful yet gentle voice.  
Eyrún sputtered one last time before her angered expression faded. The Darkness that surrounded her sizzled and crackled. It burned away as Sportacus held her there and, slowly, Eyrún’s eyes rolled back. The Darkness burned and glowed, and slowly Eyrún’s face turned to one of peace. Sportacus moved to hug her as her body went limp and she collapsed, a look of serenity on her face as she fell.  
Gently Sportacus laid her on the ground before he stood once more. He faced Íselín and approached her. She responded the same as her mother before he cupped her face as well.  
“ _Íselín of Þokufell, you too have suffered greatly. I weep that your life was cut so short, but now it is time for you to rest too, my dear._ ” He said sadly.  
The Darkness surrounding Íselín, too, began to burn and crumble. Íselín’s eyes fluttered shut as she was freed from the Darkness’s presence. As it finally faded, she too collapsed into Sportacus’s arms, her face also expressing serenity and peace as she fell.  
Sportacus gently laid the girl on the ground before standing. He turned slowly to look Húmi in the eyes.  
The man stood there and stared both in awe and fear.  
“ _It is done. They are at peace._ ” Said Sportacus quietly, before the golden light faded from his eyes and body.  
  
As soon as it left, Sportacus gasped and collapsed onto his knees and nearly onto his face. He caught himself just in time and he knelt there, breathing deeply and forcing himself not to pass out.  
Once he’d collected himself enough, he looked up. The first thing he saw was Húmi sitting on the ground, holding both the bodies of his wife and daughter in his arms. He was rocking them back and forth, and his back was turned away from Sportacus.  
Sportacus’s ears drooped as he got up and walked over to the man.  
As he approached, he could see the thin tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“Húmi, I’m so sorry…” said Sportacus.  
Húmi’s gaze only flitted to Sportacus for a moment. Immediately afterwards it returned to his family.  
“Were you telling the truth? Are they at peace?” He asked softly.  
“I…I believe so.” Sportacus answered weakly. “If I said they were, I-I think so.”  
Húmi made no visible response to Sportacus’s answer. He remained there, rocking his fallen family back and forth.  
“Húmi…” Sportacus started.  
  
“You can head back to bed, Sportacus of Alfenheim.” Said Húmi quietly.  
“What?”  
“I said, you can head back to bed.” Said Húmi as he picked up his wife and daughter and got up carefully.  
“Wait, what are you going to do?” asked Sportacus.  
Húmi’s eyes watered and is expression nearly broke as he finally willed himself to look at the elf. His voice remained as steady as ever.  
“What else? I must dig their graves, and I wish to do that alone.”  
Sportacus’s expression broke.  
He nodded nonetheless.  
As he walked back towards the back door, he turned back one last time to look at Húmi.  
The man was slowly walking back to his little house, and he could see him cradle his lost family close to his chest.

Sportacus steadied himself against the door, tears rolling down his cheeks, as he finally obliged by entering the house and leaving the man to his work.

\--

The next morning, Húmi was nowhere to be seen.

Sportacus had gone to look for him as soon as he’d awoken. He’d searched the house and the kitchen, but not a sign of the man was present. Everything had been left as it had last night. The only thing missing were his boots.  
He opened the back door, and his heart fell once he noticed the freshly moved earth and the two lumps in the dirt, marked by two single pieces of wood.  
The _torfbæir’s_ door was left ajar and, a quick peek inside, saw that nothing was missing. A pair of footprints led a few yards away from the house and towards the outer fields, but vanished afterwards.  
Sportacus stared out at the distance as the early morning winds rustled the long grass.  
His heart ached as he stared, and he sighed as another fresh batch of tears rolled down his cheeks.  
One of Húmi’s ewes bleated mournfully.  
Sportacus looked over and, quietly, he fed the sheep for the farmer.

Sportacus finished his time in Þokufell by cleaning up the last of the messes and locking the doors with a key he found. He gave one last look at the house and estate before he started his way back into town, his steps heavy as he did.  
As he returned to the main road, he looked up to see the mayor walking about with Loftskip by his side.  
The mayor looked quite jolly as he approached him.  
“Ah, Sportacus! I see you were able to lodge with Húmi as I hoped! How is the old fellow? Is he well?” He asked.  
Sportacus looked at him with a grave and mournful expression. Slowly he held out the key to the mayor, and the mayor’s expression fell.  
“I…I see.” Said the mayor.  
He looked at the elf weakly.  
“Please…please just…did he pass peacefully? That’s all I ask.”  
Sportacus’s expression fell and he looked at the ground.  
The mayor’s eyes watered.  
“I can only hope he found the peace he needs.” Responded Sportacus as he took Loftskip’s reigns from the mayor.  
As he hopped atop his steed, the mayor walked to his side.  
“I just…thank you. Whatever the circumstances, I’m glad Húmi was able to pass having someone with him in his final moments.” He said with a weak smile.  
Sportacus didn’t smile back.  
“Mayor, the only thing I’ll say is you need to prepare your town. You’re all in grave danger from the Darkness, and you must be ready.” He said quietly.  
“T-The Darkness?? But why…oh…” The mayor said, the realization hitting him.  
Sportacus looked down sadly and shook his head.  
“His sheep are still there. Please, take care of them. I can’t stay to look after them.” Said Sportacus.  
“Yes, of course. And Sportacus?”  
He looked over.  
“Thank you.”  
“Thank _you_ , mayor.” Said Sportacus as he cracked Loftskip’s reigns and rode towards the road out of town.

The tiny and sleepy village vanished behind him as Sportacus rode at top speeds, Loftskip grunting and galloping along to keep pace.  
Tears rolled down Sportacus’s face as he stared ahead.  
“Sportacus…” said Robbie, finally speaking. “…I know it won’t help you much, but I wanted to say you handled things the best you could. I…I feel that Húmi and his family are at peace.”  
Sportacus looked at him and smiled sadly.  
“That’s all I can hope for.” He said.  
He looked ahead.  
“But now, we focus. We _must_ defeat the Darkness.” He said firmly.  
His expression faltered as more tears fell.  
“I won’t let another family suffer like his.” He said softly.  
“I won’t either.” Robbie answered quietly.  
Sportacus looked back over and smiled faintly.  
He gently placed a hand at Robbie’s pommel as he rode, as like a sign of solidarity and comfort as they rode towards the Kingdom of Spoilero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny enough, this is one of the chapters that I thought of earliest when writing this story. Admittedly I was never sure this would make the final version due to feeling like a slight detour, but I hope it'll be integrated by the end. I'm starting to set some pieces to get more story stuff moving, but I can't share more than that because spoilers. I'll admit this chapter was heavily inspired by a book I read and I think the syntax changed to match what I was reading, which is a little bizarre but I suppose it happens.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this. I'll admit to being nervous about posting this because I wasn't sure if it'd be too dark or intense either for the readers or for the story. Next chapter might be a bit because I've hit another story block, but hopefully you'll enjoy the future chapters too.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!


	12. The Smiles

As they rode onwards towards the Kingdom of Spoilero, the fields of green and fog-filled valleys fell away to dunes and sand, with the occasional field of yellow grass dotting and interrupting the coastal landscape. Gray-blue water lapped at the shores and the air smelt faintly of salt.

All the while, Sportacus mostly didn’t notice. His mind was still distracted by the events of last night.

Even as he’d reassured Robbie that they needed to focus, he felt like a zombie.  
His body felt heavy and his mind felt foggy.  
He hadn’t slept well the night before, and his rather spotty sleep as of late was catching up to him. As he rode, he would sometimes fade to a shallow sleep.  
Each time he did, however, he saw Húmi.  
And each time he saw Húmi, he saw his wife and daughter, lumbering around him with their masses of Darkness lurching like worms around their bodies, reaching towards him.  
In at least one shallow dream, he saw his brother instead of Húmi, which startled him far more fiercely.  
Slapping is face after that last dream, Sportacus forced himself to remain as awake as he could.  
“We’re here.” Stated Robbie.  
Sportacus pulled back on the reigns momentarily to admire the kingdom.

The Kingdom of Spoilero was quite a sight that contrasted with the previous Kingdom of Meanswell in nearly every way possible. While the Kingdom of Meanswell favored smaller, wider buildings, the Kingdom of Spoilero’s buildings crawled up high into the sky, the clouds swirling around their roofs. The Kingdom of Meanswell was built of warmly colored bricks; the Kingdom of Spoilero was built of basalt and similar dark stone, giving an imposing atmosphere to the place. Seagulls swooped around the tallest building, which no doubt was the castle they were looking for.  
Sportacus stared in wonder at the sight.  
“It’s taller than I remember. And bigger.” Commented Robbie.  
“I’ve only heard about this place in tales.” Said Sportacus. “I heard they’re a major trading port.”  
He cracked the reigns as Robbie spoke.  
“Oh, of course. They’re only the largest marine trading port in the country! They’re in charge of all the overseas import and export work. At least, they were the last time I was here and, well, that was a long time ago.”  
“Hmm, well I’m guessing they still are. Look at all those ships.” Said Sportacus as he pointed to the sea.  
Indeed, the ports around the kingdom were filled with ships of varying sizes, from beautiful cargo vessels to sturdy sailboats, all flying flags of different nations but most flying the crest of the Kingdom of Spoilero: a mighty, winged boar on a field of gold. A bell could be heard from the coast as one ship disembarked.  
“Wow…” said Sportacus in a hushed voice as he gazed at the glittering water.  
“Never seen the ocean before?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“Yeah, it really never gets old.” Sighed Robbie.

The two continued riding down the road until the dirt gave way to finely built cobblestone. They slowed as they reached the gates of the imposingly tall kingdom which, currently, was flanked by two guards looking away from the road. The two guards were dressed in minimal armor, with the most substantial pieces of theirs being their helmets built of a dark metal.  
Sportacus grimaced and felt slightly uncomfortable as he wondered whether all the weapons in the city were made of iron.  
Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and stood tall.  
“Excuse me! I’m Sportacus of Alfenheim! I’ve been sent by the Duke of Meanswell to retrieve the Blessed Armor of the Goddess! I request permission to enter the city and speak to the king and queen!” He said.  
Any composure Sportacus had, however, fled as soon as the guard looked up. Sportacus nearly fell off his horse in fright.  
It wasn’t that the guard looked ghastly. No, it was more his _smile_ , which seemed far too wide for a city guard to have.  
“Gee mister warrior, we don’t have a king! We do have a queen though, but we were told not to let anyone in right now!” said the guard chipperly.  
As soon as Sportacus collected himself, he stood up tall once more.  
“O-Oh? Why not?” He asked.  
The guard shrugged in an almost comedic fashion.  
“You know, I’m not quite so sure! But I do remember our lovely advisor saying that this was a sensitive time right now, so visitors aren’t a great idea!”  
“Oh Wallace!” said the other guard with a far too loud laugh. “You silly goose! You forgot we weren’t supposed to tell other people that! It was a secret!”  
“Oh, whoops!” gasped the first guard named Wallace. “I suppose I did!”  
Wallace’s gaze snapped over to Sportacus.  
“But we are pleased that you wanted to visit! Have a safe trip back to the Kingdom of Meanswell!”

Sportacus stared at the two guards, stunned.  
“N-Now hang on! I’ve traveled for several days to this kingdom to retrieve the armor! I can’t just turn around now, the fate of the world’s at stake!” He protested.  
“Oh dear sir, well I’m certainly sorry! But I’m sure you understand we have our orders!” replied the second guard.  
“Oh for pete’s sake, listen lunkheads!” growled Robbie. “I don’t care if you have orders or not, but this is of utmost importance! Let us in or else!”  
“Robbie!” chastised Sportacus.  
“Oh wow! A talking sword! I’ve never seen one of _those_ before!” gasped Wallace in awe.  
“And he’s got quite an attitude! How delightful!” said the second guard as he walked over to reach for Robbie.  
“Hey! Hands off the merchandise!” barked Robbie.  
“P-Please! Just let us in!” begged Sportacus as he pulled Robbie away from the guards’ reaches.  
“Evening Wallace and Thomas! What are you sillies up to now?” asked a third guard wearing a far more decorated uniform. He’d just walked down a flight of stairs that led from the top of the wall to the ground outside.  
Both guards stood up tall, but still displayed their silly smiles.  
“Oh, Captain Morris! We’re so so sorry! We were following our wonderful orders to guard the gate, but we have a new friend who wants to visit! We had to tell him the gates are shut right now by order of the supervisor.” Wallace said.  
Captain Morris blinked and, immediately, a wide smile crossed his face.  
“Well isn’t that a shame! I do love new visitors.” He said as he looked at Sportacus.  
Shivers ran down Sportacus’s spine.  
“Gee mister, what were you planning to do in our lovely city?”  
“Uh, I-I was sent by the Duke of Meanswell. You see, I’m looking for the Blessed Armor of the Goddess, and he said one of the pieces was here.” Sportacus explained nervously.  
Captain Morris gasped excitedly.  
“Well that sounds like quite a quest! Hmm, it’d be a shame to end it so abruptly, wouldn’t it? Hmm…” He said, tapping his chin.  
He snapped his fingers.  
“Well, our supervisor didn’t say that guests to the royal family weren’t allowed! He might’ve just meant common visitors!” He said happily.  
He looked over at Sportacus and nodded.  
“Looks like you can come in after all!”  
“Goodie.” Muttered Robbie.  
“Oh yay! A new visitor!” Wallace said as he clapped excitedly.  
“A new friend!” said Thomas.  
“Alright sillies, open the gates! And friend, please enjoy your visit to the Kingdom of Spoilero!” said Captain Morris as he vanished up the stairs.  
Sportacus waved at him slowly as the guards opened up the gates. The giant doors creaked and groaned as they opened wide. With the gate open, the guards waved enthusiastically as Sportacus led Loftskip into the city at a trot.  
“That was…weird. I don’t remember the city’s guards being so, er, jolly.” Robbie said with disgust.  
“I guess they’re just in a good mood?” suggested Sportacus weakly as they entered.  
“No Sportacus, a good mood isn’t maniac smiling and near braindead enthusiasm. This is just creepy.” Robbie said sarcastically.  
“I’m just trying to give them the benefit of the doubt.” Sportacus mumbled with a frown.

Sportacus directed Loftskip down the street as he scanned the area. The town guarded within the intimidatingly huge walls held a similar dreary color to its exterior, with mostly grays and blacks punctuated by the golden banners of the city’s crest. The most color glowed from the wares and lights inside of the buildings.  
It contrasted, rather starkly, with the rather eerie number of _smiles_ that Sportacus saw.  
The smiles weren’t really what bothered Sportacus, but more how wide and evenly beaming they were, to an almost uncanny degree.  
He looked to his right in time to see one uncannily happy man get beaten into the ground by similarly grinning thugs. The man was even laughing and giggling as he was kicked and pulverized, and the guards who saved him were smiling and joking with both parties.  
Sportacus glanced over to his left and spotted three individuals crowding around something he couldn’t see.  
“Well gosh! It looks like Marco the Filthy finally died!” chirped one man.  
“Wow, he died as destitute as ever! That’s so sad!” added another man.  
“Now we get to bury his body!” cheered the third man.  
They threw a shroud over the body and lifted him onto their shoulders. They walked with those same eerie smiles and giggles as they went along, walking in front of and past Sportacus.  
Sportacus shuddered.  
“I’ve changed my mind. Something is _seriously_ wrong with this kingdom.” He said.  
“Glad you caught up finally.” Added Robbie. “But now the question: what’s wrong with everyone?”  
Sportacus watched as a mother and her children crossed the road. All had the same, blank smiles.  
He shook his head.  
“I don’t know, but whatever it is it’s serious.” He answered.  
“Do you think the queen will know anything? Or...you think?” suggested Robbie darkly.  
Sportacus’s lips thinned.  
“We’ll just have to trust that there’s someone to talk to at the castle, even if it’s not the queen. Come on, we’d better hurry.” He said as he snapped Loftskip’s reigns.

They rode past more buildings and homes with glowing windows and people with similar, creepy smiles as they directed themselves toward the castle. Guards waved at them too enthusiastically as they rode and, out of politeness, Sportacus would offer a short wave back.   
“I’m beginning to miss the bandits.” Hissed Robbie.  
Sportacus had to stifle a chuckle as they finally reached the castle’s doors.  
Two guards stood watch at the doors.  
“Why good evening! How can we help you?” said one guard chipperly.  
“Please, it’s an emergency. I need to talk to the queen.” Sportacus said as he slipped off his mare.  
The guard looked surprised.  
“Queen? But we don’t have a queen!” He remarked.  
Sportacus paused.  
“What? B-But another guard…”  
“Oh some of the guards are acting silly! Our queen died!” added the other guard.  
“What?!” Sportacus and Robbie sputtered in unison.  
The first guard nodded thoughtfully.  
“Yup! She died, oh I’d say a few weeks ago! Just up and died!” He said.  
“Quite tragic! One minute she’s up and about, the next, dead!” added the other guard with a boisterous laugh.  
Sportacus’s face paled and he felt a little green at their words.  
“H-How can you both speak like that? Your queen is dead!”  
“We know! It’s really quite sad, but we can’t help but laugh!” howled the first guard as the two’s laughter pitched to near mania.  
“It’s so horrible! So sad! Her poor son! Her p-poor s…” the second guard started, before he crumpled to the ground with laughter.  
Sportacus cringed and took a step back as he stared in horror at the two cackling guards.  
“These two are fruitcakes, Sportacus. Let’s get out of here and find a saner kingdom.” Begged Robbie.  
“B-But one of the pieces of armor is here! We just need to find it, but I don’t know how or who we can get to seriously try and help us!” He answered.

As if on cue, the gigantic doors to the castle creaked open.

Peering through the doors and stepping out into the sunlight came a man that exuded poise and prestige. He was a slim, tall man whose silver-gray hair suggested an advanced age, but his skin portrayed no such signs with few wrinkles marring its surface. He was dressed ostentatiously in a layered brown robe trimmed with shining gold thread. The sleeves were long and ended at his wrists, exposing his ring covered hands. A beautiful brooch that featured a ghastly looking crow shaped in silver framing a dark purple gemstone was clipped near his neck and drew focus from the rather elegant ensemble.  
“Goodness, there’s quite a racket out here!” He commented first, his voice smooth and soft.  
His gaze fell upon Sportacus and Loftskip.  
“Well hello, who are you?” He asked.  
Sportacus sighed in relief once he noticed the lack of a blank smile on his face.  
“My name is Sportacus, and I hail from Alfenheim. I came here to attain the audience of the queen, but these two here say she’s passed.” He said.  
The man’s gaze darkened, and he nodded.  
“I’m afraid to say they’re quite right, even if their demeanor doesn’t suggest it.” He said as he shot a dirty look to the still cackling guards.  
He looked back at Sportacus.  
“My apologies for the strange behavior you’ve witnessed. Please, come inside.” Ushered the man as he held the doors open wider. “You may leave your steed out here, she’s quite safe.”  
“Thank you so much, uh…”  
“Percival. Percival Pries. I’m the main advisor in the royal court. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sportacus of Alfenheim.” Said Percival cordially as the doors shut behind them.

The advisor sighed as the laughter of the guards was officially sealed away by the door. He gave a relieved smile to Sportacus as he guided him down the hallway.  
“I imagine it’s nice to get away from…all of that.” Percival said.  
“It’s nice to have the break. It feels like everyone I’ve seen since I arrived has been like those guards.” Sportacus said.  
“I’m afraid it really is everyone who’s like that, Sportacus.” Percival answered. “But we can get to that in a moment. Are you hungry? We’ll be having dinner soon in the main hall.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“Really? Is that okay?” He asked.  
“Of course!” Percival said with a small smile. “Come now, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t mean it, would I? That would be simply cruel.”  
“Well – “  
“Yes, we’d love that. Thank you.” Robbie butted in.  
Sportacus looked down at his weapon.  
“What? I didn’t want to wait for you to finally spit it out. You’re hungry, and we’re being offered food.” He answered.  
As if on cue, Sportacus’s stomach rumbled. He smirked and nodded.  
“Alright, you have a point. And thanks for saying thanks.” He said.  
“I’ve got tact, Sportacow. It’s no big deal.” Robbie said with a verbal eyeroll.  
“Your sword speaks?” asked Percival curiously. He leaned down to examine the sword.  
“Oh uh, yes. This is Robbie. My apologies, I should’ve introduced him earlier.”  
“Yes, you should have.” Robbie added.  
Percival tapped his chin.  
“Hmm, interesting. What caused you to be trapped like this, Robbie? Or are you just a sword given life?” He asked.  
“Former, not the latter. And, well, use your imagination.” Robbie snarked, his voice dying out as he looked at Percival.  
He tilted himself up to look at Percival’s brooch.  
“Interesting brooch you have there, advisor.” He noted quietly.  
Percival’s fingers instinctually went up to rub the rough surface of the jewel.  
“Thank you. It’s a gift from an old friend. You like it?” He asked.  
“That’s a way to put it.” Robbie said in a quieter tone.  
Sportacus quirked an eyebrow at his weapon.  
Percival stood back up.  
“Well, thank you nonetheless. Come along, dinner should be ready by this point.” He said as he started walking again.

The group walked down the seemingly endless hallway that exuded a cold and less than welcoming atmosphere. The walls, like the exterior, was built of dark basalt that kept the hallways at an almost uncomfortably dark level. Torches kept a bare amount of light in the hallways, which illuminated the golden banners on the walls and the red carpeting underneath their feet. A few guards patrolled the hallways or stood watch, and all of them had those same, unsettling smiles. Blessedly, none of them were giggling like mad men, though the silence was barely a better replacement.  
As they walked, Sportacus looked up to see a giant portrait hanging in the hall. It was a painting of three people. The first, presumably a man, had his face scratched out though the rest of his body was visible. He was dressed in a regal, military uniform with insignias from a kingdom he didn’t recognize. The second was a woman with dark brown hair that fell over her shoulders in voluminous waves. She had a distinctive birthmark near her nose, and she was dressed in a golden gown. The third was a little boy, barely a toddler, seated on her lap. He had her hair color and was dressed in a yellow gown with a red bow.  
Percival paused a moment and nodded at the portrait.  
“The royal family: His majesty King Jacob Heralds-Spoilero, separated. Her majesty Queen Isabella Spoilero, may she rest in peace. Finally, Prince Stingy Spoilero.” He explained.  
Sportacus looked at the portrait sadly.  
“The king, you said was separated?” He said.  
“Yes, they were wed at a young age. The separation was amicable, if you’re concerned.” Percival said.  
“And the prince?”  
“Still alive and living here. He will join us for dinner.” Percival said as he snapped his fingers.  
Two grinning guards nodded and opened a set of beautifully carved doors. Percival led Sportacus out of the hallway and into the warmly lit, gigantic dining hall.

Compared to the dining hall at Dragonshelm, the dining hall in the castle was far more elegant, formal, and cold, just like the rest of the castle. Tall pillars of marble lined the outer walls of the dining hall and from each hung a golden banner with the kingdom’s crest. The table, made of stone, was covered with a white tablecloth. A spread of various, no doubt intricate dishes were lined neatly down the table, and the smell was absolutely heavenly. Yes, the food of Dragonshelm was delicious, but it was more in a home cooking sort of way. This food was of that excellent quality one runs into only once in a lifetime, and it made Sportacus’s mouth water.  
“Come, sit. You can sit by the end where the prince and I sit.” Percival said as he waved over the warrior.  
Sportacus, beside himself, nodded dumbly and walked over to his chair, also carved of stone. He was rather surprised that the servants of the castle rather easily pushed the heavy furniture as he was seated. He would’ve complimented their strength if their eerie smiles hadn’t turned him off from addressing anyone.  
Percival’s hands were held in a praying position, elbows against the table, as he looked intently at a far door in the corner. A frown crossed his face.  
“Hmm, I see the prince is late. He’s been doing that as of late.” He noted disappointedly.  
He looked back at Sportacus.  
“No matter. I’m certain the prince wouldn’t mind us tucking in a little, would he? Here, try this couscous. It’s absolutely divine, the chefs make it with a special mountain mushroom and dried plums.” Percival said with a shrug as he offered the bowl filled with the steaming rice dish.  
Sportacus helped himself to a serving of couscous as well as some of the lamb dish and the vegetables. Everything was cooked to perfection and the flavors, though complex, were an absolute symphony for the senses. He might not be able to describe the individual tastes, but he was still in awe of everything he ate.  
Once he ate a few bites of his food, he looked up at the advisor, who ate in a far more formal manner than the ravenous warrior.  
Sportacus sheepishly wiped his mouth with his napkin.  
“So, you said that this…behavior that everyone is showing started only a little while ago? After the queen passed?” He asked.  
Percival paused and nodded. He also wiped his mouth before answering.  
“Yes, just a few weeks ago now.” Answered Percival, his gaze growing sad. “It was all very sudden. Our Queen Isabella has always been a healthy woman, quite athletic as well. No one could’ve guessed that she’d…she’d so suddenly pass. The worst is that we have no clue why she passed.”  
He shook his head.  
“The people were devastated, and it wasn’t long afterwards that this strange behavior started. Trust me, you’re not the only one put off by the smiles. I understand being numb with grief, but this has hit an exceptional extreme.” He said with an air of unease.  
“Is there anyone else unaffected? Or at least, not smiling? I see you aren’t.”  
“No, but I can’t afford to be taken over by grief. With both the king and queen gone, and the prince too young to assume a king’s status, I’m effectively the leader of the kingdom until Prince Stingy comes of age. I’m afraid I know no other person in the kingdom who isn’t like…this.” He said, gesturing to a guard with a wicked smile.   
“What about the prince?” asked Sportacus.

As if on cue, the doors in the back wall swung open. Percival and Sportacus turned around to face the newcomer.  
“Ah, your highness, you’ve arrived.” Percival said with a small smile as he stood. “Sportacus, may I introduce to you his royal highness, Prince Stingy of Spoilero.”  
Sportacus stood and gave a small bow. As he looked up, he realized that the young boy seemed to not notice him.  
The boy, who looked roughly around seven years old, looked much like the painting of his younger self in the main hall. He had a short crop of chestnut brown hair and was dressed in yellow robes with a red bow at his neck. A small crown sat on his head and a decidedly simple, golden medallion hung from his neck. The boy’s eyes were fixed upon something in his hands, something that made him mutter and murmur silently to himself as they clinked in his grasp.  
“Your highness,” continued Percival. “may I introduce our guest? This is Sportacus, from Alfenheim. He has traveled quite far to request an audience with you and I.”  
Stingy looked up for a moment with a disinterested look. He glanced at Sportacus for only a moment before his attention returned to whatever was in his hands.  
Sportacus glanced over curiously and saw something sparkle in the prince’s hands.  
Gold.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. He leaned back as Stingy hopped into his chair. As soon as the prince sat down, Percival sat back down and gestured for Sportacus to sit as well. The advisor quickly prepared a plate for the young boy, who’d yet to say a word or even look up.  
“Your highness, your dinner.” Said Percival formally as he set the plate down in front of the prince.  
Stingy’s attention shot up and he glanced at his plate. He grabbed a spoon roughly and scooped a single mouthful of couscous into his mouth. He chewed it quickly and set the spoon back down.  
“Thank you for dinner.” He mumbled.  
“My prince, won’t you eat more?” asked Percival in surprise.  
“Not hungry. Busy.” Stingy answered as he returned to clinking his coins. He got up and walked back out of the hall without another word.  
Percival shook his head and sighed.  
“Goodness me, that boy hasn’t had a full dinner in days. He’ll starve for sure.” He said softly.  
“I see the prince isn’t smiling, but something certainly isn’t right there either.” Sportacus noted with concern.  
“I imagine he’s grieving. There’s little we can do there but support him.” Answered Percival quickly as he sat back up. “Now, do you have any idea of how to handle our grinning citizen issue?”

Sportacus looked down and thought for a moment. He bit his lip.  
“Could it be magical in nature?” He suggested.  
Percival’s eyes widened.  
“Magical? I don’t believe so. We haven’t had a court mage in years.” He said.  
“Well, nothing else makes sense otherwise.” Sportacus said, tapping his chin. “I’ve seen how people look while they’re grieving, and this isn’t it. It’s too overt, and everyone is grieving the same way which is strange.”  
Percival nodded.  
“I’m certain you’ll figure it out and, once you do, the kingdom will be indebted to you.” He answered as the servant cleared their plates and placed some dessert trays on the table. “By the way, I don’t know if I asked you before, but why did you come here? Our troubles couldn’t have reached the other kingdoms, have they?”  
Sportacus glanced at the desserts for a moment before looking up.  
“I don’t believe you did.” He said. “I actually came here to speak with the queen, but I believe I can ask you about it.”  
He cleared his throat and sat up straight.  
“I don’t know if you’re aware, Percival, but the Darkness has returned.” He said seriously.  
Percival’s eyes widened.  
“Oh?” He asked.  
“Yes. It’s returned, and I’ve seen it not too far from here. I’ve been sent to collect the blessed armor that I can use to defeat the Darkness.” Said Sportacus as he pointed to his gauntlets. “These gauntlets and chestplate are two of the pieces. There are three more, and I was told that at least one piece was here in the castle.”  
“I see.” Said Percival, nodding. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of such a prophecy nor the armor you wear. It’s quite impressive, however. Perhaps I can look in the royal treasury tonight for you? In exchange for you helping out our citizens?”  
“You would do that?” asked Sportacus.  
“Why, of course!” Percival said with a smile. “You are some sort of prophesized hero for the whole country. It’d be wrong of me to refuse to help. Besides, it’s not an issue for myself and the servants.”  
Sportacus smiled.  
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” He said.  
Percival smiled warmly.  
“Of course. Now, I imagine you’re tired. You can begin looking tomorrow. I’ll have a servant show you to your chambers.”

Percival snapped his fingers and a smiling servant stepped forward. She nodded and waited patiently for Sportacus to walk over to her.  
“And thank you, again. Our kingdom appreciates you for your helpfulness.” Said Percival with a toothy smile.  
Sportacus uneasily smiled back before he followed the servant girl out of the dining hall.

\--

The room Sportacus had been given was, strangely, on the first floor. Other than that, however, the room was exquisite. The bed was made with smooth silk sheets and fluffy blankets made of animal fur. Lovely, patterned drapes framed the window. Most notably though was, even though the room was built of stone, the room was decidedly comfy and warm.

Sportacus laid on the mattress and sighed.  
“So…this kingdom.” Robbie said.  
“It’s different, that’s for sure.” Sportacus responded.  
“That’s a really nice way to say everyone is completely nuts.” Robbie snorted.  
“It’s creepy, but I don’t think they’re nuts.” Sportacus said, rolling onto his side, his loose hair falling over part of his face. “I think there’s something else going on.”  
Robbie faltered for a moment to respond. He really wished Sportacus wouldn’t let his hair loose like that. He cleared his throat.  
“O-Oh? Well, what do you think is up?” asked Robbie.  
“I don’t know. It just feels…off.” Sportacus said as he shook his head. “But it’s not just the townsfolk. It’s the prince as well. Everyone except Percival seems off. I don’t know, I think it’s magical, but I don’t know who would do it.”  
“You think he might have something to do with everything?”  
Sportacus scrunched his face.  
“I don’t want to think of that…unless you think so?”  
“Well,” Robbie started with a sigh. “I don’t know, I’m not getting a great energy from him. Something feels wrong, especially with him as the only normal person we’ve met in this town. It feels suspicious. And that brooch…it feels familiar.”  
“Like Moss Fell familiar?” asked Sportacus with a tired smile.  
“H-Hey, hey I’m still working on that.” Robbie said pointedly. “And…sort of. I just don’t like the looks of any of this.”  
“Me neither.” Sportacus said as he sighed and rolled back over. “But I don’t know how or where to start. Something tells me we can’t just _ask_ the townsfolk what’s wrong.”  
“You’ll get a sickeningly happy ‘well golly gee’ if you do that.” Robbie said, gagging.  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“So the only thing to do is to look around.” He said.  
“But we don’t have time for that either. The rest of the world needs saving too. Maybe the Darkness has something to do with everything and, if – when we defeat it, everyone will go back to normal too?” Robbie said.

Sportacus’s gaze turned sad and tired.  
He sighed.  
“No, we don’t.” He said quietly.  
Robbie turned to look at him.  
“You okay?” He asked.  
Sportacus bit his lip.  
“Hey, we’re friends, remember?” Robbie pointed out. “We can talk about our feelings now. I swear, no insults from me.”  
Sportacus weakly smiled.  
“I…I guess I’m still thinking about Húmi. Him and his family. It’s been bothering me since we left. I, uh, I’ve been having weird daytime nightmares, if that makes sense.”  
“I think so.”  
Sportacus closed his eyes and shook his head.  
“I see my brother in his wife and daughter’s place.” He said. “And…it’s frightening to think of.”  
“Then don’t.” said Robbie.  
Sportacus chuckled tiredly.  
“It’s not that easy.” He said.  
“I know, but remember? I said try to trust that he’ll be fine. I know it’s scary but, well, worrying won’t help him.” Robbie said.  
“I know.” Sportacus said as he dug his palms into his eyes. “I just need you to tell my _brain_ that.”  
“Ahh.” Robbie said. “I love that when that happens.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“I think what you…what we _both_ need, is some sleep.” Robbie said. “If your brain is going to torment you with images of a zombie brother, then you’ll need all the energy you can get. And given last night, I imagine you’re pretty tired.”  
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep much.” Sportacus admitted.  
“I’d be shocked if you did.” Robbie said. “Come on, get some sleep. We can think about the creepy townsfolk and saving the world tomorrow.”  
Sportacus rolled over to his side, giving that look Robbie felt was so dangerous again: a warm smile with that loose, blonde hair.  
“You’re really wise, you know that? Where would I be without you?” He asked.  
Robbie gulped and shook away his thoughts.  
“U-Uh, dead. Probably dead.” He stammered.  
Sportacus laughed.  
“You’re probably right. Good night, Robbie.” He said.

Robbie sighed and fell against the floor with a clatter.  
“Good night, Sportacus.” He muttered.  
If only he had arms, he’d bash himself upside the head. For the moment, he’d suffice with stewing angrily with those stupid, confusing, unwanted feelings.

The room fell quiet as the candle on the wall burned lowly.

Robbie stared up at it and the ceiling. He willed away the thoughts and tried to quiet his mind for sleep.

He thought about soft green grass and fresh chocolate cake. He thought about the smell of fresh linen.  
He thought about the musty smell of his old library.  
…  
His eyelids began to drag shut as old, near forgotten memories swirled in his brain.

…

Then he heard something scurrying beneath him.  
Instantly Robbie shot up. He turned about and looked around the room. He couldn’t see anything in particular that seemed distressing.  
He paused and listened.  
Nothing.  
He was about to lean back down when he heard the scurrying again.  
Robbie’s heart beat faster.  
“Uh, Sportacus? Sportacus, wake up.”  
Sportacus stirred and mumbled. He blinked his eyes.  
“W-What? What’s wrong?”  
“I heard something.”  
“Where?”  
“I don’t know, underneath us?” Robbie said as he heard the noise again.  
Sportacus sat up in his bed.  
“Underneath us? How – “

They both fell silent as they both heard the sound.

Footsteps.

Sportacus hopped out of bed and looked around. He picked up Robbie and sheathed him. Making quick work of putting back on his armor, Sportacus looked around the room. When he heard the sound underneath him again, he pulled back the elegant carpeting that covered the stone floor.  
With the carpet gone, Sportacus paused once he noticed the grate in the middle of the dust-covered floor.  
He could hear the sounds echoing underneath him from the grate.  
Sportacus’s face paled and his ears tilted down.  
He crouched down carefully near the grate.  
“Um, hello? Is someone down there?” He asked quietly.  
At first, he heard nothing. He saw nothing.

He jumped when, from the grate, he saw it.

A pair of eyes were staring at him, and the owner of said eyes hushed him harshly.

“Come with me.” They said. “And be quick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after 60,000+ words, we reach the Kingdom of Spoilero, and I feel it's creepy haha. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Just a quite note that work on this fic will go sort of on the backburner. I'm planning and working on a fic for Halloween and, given the more limited time for that, I'll be focusing on that. I don't believe it'll slow down updates too much, but we'll see! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	13. The Rebels

“Who are you?” asked Sportacus, still stunned by their find.

“No time, and it’s not important yet. Just jump down here.” Hushed the person.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you are.” Said Sportacus with a frown.

The person sighed exasperatedly.

“Look, all I’ll say is that I’m a concerned citizen who’s just as worried about everyone’s behavior as you are. I’m also a citizen who agrees with you that there’s something bigger and stranger going on here and calling it grief is a blatant lie. Now are you jumping down here or not? I can’t wait all night.” They answered.

Sportacus looked over at Robbie. He turned away for a moment.  
“What do you think?” he asked Robbie in a quiet voice.  
“I think this might be our best lead so far.” Robbie responded.  
“You really think so?”  
“Well, they aren’t smiling. That’s a start. It’s better than most of the people we’ve met today, and if they’re this aware that something here is wrong, that sounds trustworthy to me.”  
“I don’t know, this is a bit strange.” Sportacus said.  
“Stranger than what we’ve seen today?”  
Sportacus bit his lip and nodded.  
“You’re right.” He said, before he turned to the stranger.  
“Well? You coming?” asked the stranger.  
“How do you remove the grate?” asked Sportacus.  
“Just lift it up. And hurry, I hear someone in the hallway by you.”  
Sportacus nodded and lifted the grate carefully. With his fingers locked in the grate’s holes, he slipped down through the hole before he replaced the grate.

He blinked at the sudden change in lighting. Compared to his warmly lit room, the tunnel he found himself in was dank, musty, and very dark. The stranger held a dimly lit lantern as their eyes darted back up the grate. They paused and listened, waiting for several seconds before they spoke again.  
“Follow me.” They said.  
“Now will you tell me who you are?” asked Sportacus.  
“Not here. Follow me and I’ll tell you.” Said the stranger as they walked down the tunnel.  
Sportacus shook his head uneasily and followed behind.  
The two walked down the stone-built tunnel in near silence. The squishing of stagnant water underneath their feet was the only sound that punctuated the darkened tunnel.  
“So, where are we?” Sportacus finally asked.  
“These are old, secret tunnels that were installed when the castle was first built.” Explained the stranger. “They were designed to help the royal family escape if the kingdom was ever invaded. You can see that hasn’t been much of an issue for them.”  
“And why exactly are _you_ down here?” asked Robbie.  
“Because if it’s a whoever that’s affecting my friends, this will be the last place they’ll think to look. No one but myself and a few others know about this place.” They answered.  
“How did you find out about them in the first place?” asked Sportacus.  
The stranger stopped and turned. Green eyes flashed from beneath their hood.  
“Because a historian is supposed to know things, elf. Now hurry up. The others will be waiting.” They said hastily before they continued along.

The group stopped in front of an old, wooden door. It was near rotted at its hinges and hung from its frame loosely.  
Wyatt stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against the door eight times.  
“The swallow flies high in the south.” Said a raspy, older voice.  
“But never in pairs.” Answered Wyatt.  
A brief delay, then the door was pushed away. Standing in the doorway was an elderly woman, her gray hair tucked underneath a ratty, faded bandana. She looked uneasily and suspiciously at Sportacus.  
“Wyatt, who is he? Why did you bring him here?” She asked warily.  
“He’s an outsider, Irma. He’s not affected by the curse and, better yet, he’s staying as a guest of the prince. He has access to the whole castle.” The stranger now identified as Wyatt answered.  
Irma’s eyes widened, and she nodded.  
“Get in, quickly.” She croaked.  
“I-I never said I had full access, Wyatt…” Sportacus said as they stepped through the door.  
“Then I’ll put it this way: you can walk through the castle without immediately being thrown in the dungeon. That’s a privilege if I’ve ever heard of one.” Answered Wyatt gruffly.  
  
Wyatt and Sportacus followed behind her as she stopped and replaced the door. Sportacus was rather surprised by how easily the old woman moved the large and heavy door. As soon as it was replaced, she snapped her fingers three times.  
Sportacus turned and looked as no less than seven more people emerged from the shadows. They ranged from being around his age, to a woman with what he assumed was her husband, to another old man, to a young girl no older than six.  
“Everyone, gather around. We’ve got one more person to add to our ranks: an elf, and a guest of the prince’s.” Wyatt announced.  
The group looked in surprise and murmured to each other.  
“Wait, what? I-I didn’t agree…who… _what_ are you all doing? Who are you all?” asked Sportacus uneasily.  
Wyatt frowned and stepped away to join the rest of the group.  
“We, _elf_ , are the last sane people left in this kingdom. The only ones who aren’t smiling like china dolls or cackling like maniacs. If you want people who are as concerned as you are, we’re your only group left.” He answered darkly.  
Sportacus’s ears dropped as he glanced at the group.  
“You all are the only ones?” He asked.  
“We have no clue _why_ , if you’re wondering.” Irma said as she huffed and walked over, clutching a cane as she did. “There’s no connection between us save for a few scattered families and distant acquaintances. As far as we can tell, us being spared is a random act rather than planned.”  
“But we’re together now.” Said a younger woman with red hair. “And we all want to help our friends and families who’re affected by this… _malady_.”  
“Surely you all couldn’t speak with Percival or the prince?” suggested Sportacus weakly.  
“You really think we didn’t try?” scoffed a scruffier looking, middle-aged man. “We rushed the castle the minute we saw our spouses and friends grinning like Cheshire cats. All we received was a meager gesture of sympathy and assurance that the royal guard was investigating.”  
“And given that the guards are grinning too…” Wyatt noted.  
“This is our only option left, and by extension, _your_ only option left.” Said Irma.

Sportacus’s lips thinned as he eyed the group of scraggly, weary looking townsfolk who’d crowned themselves a ramshackle group of “rebels”. A little girl stepped forward from the group, a girl in rags with a head of corkscrew curls.  
“Please, Mr. Elf, help my family.” She asked.  
Sportacus’s heart broke and his doubtful expression faded.  
“My mom and dad one day started smiling really weird. They just keep smiling and it’s scaring me. They tell me I’m being silly when I say I’m scared, and they tell me to keep smiling but I don’t want to!” sobbed the little girl.  
Sportacus nearly cried as the girl cried. He sighed and gently hugged her. As he comforted her, he looked up.  
“Alright, I’ll help you all. But what do you expect me to do? I know as much as all of you.” He said.  
Wyatt stepped forward.  
“I overheard you theorize that the cause of this malady was magical, yes?” He said.  
“Yes, I pondered the possibility.” Said Sportacus as he let the girl go.  
“I’ve been chasing the same hypothesis myself and I believe it’s our best bet. What we need you to do, however, is to bring us a book on curses and spells.”  
“And where would I find that? Percival told me that there hasn’t been a court mage in years.”  
“The mage’s library should still exist.” Wyatt said as he unrolled a scroll. “Our last mage departed from the kingdom hundreds of years ago, but the maps still vaguely describe an abandoned room. I cross-referenced this modern map with an ancient map, and the abandoned room was his study.”  
“Mage’s rooms are burned out though when they leave.” Robbie pointed as, the group gasping in alarm as they heard him spoke.  
“Yes, usually they are, but there’s no record of a magical burning ritual being conducted in the castle. That means, theoretically, the room still exists. And if it does, it’ll have information on curses and spells. We could, hopefully, use it to pinpoint a counterspell that will free our friends.”  
“And for the perpetrator?”  
“We’ll handle whoever that may be afterwards. We’ll make sure, however, that they rue the day they inflicted such a curse upon our home.” Irma stated darkly.  
“So will you do it?” asked the red-headed woman.

Sportacus looked at the group and nodded slowly. A determined look crossed his face.  
“Of course. I will help you at least get a reversal spell. If it means helping your families, I’ll do it.” He said.  
The group gave him tired smiles, but nonetheless looked thankful. The little girl smiled the biggest smile.  
“We appreciate your work…” Wyatt started.  
“Sportacus.”  
“…Sportacus. We wish you luck on your mission. Please, come back as soon as you find something for us to use.”  
“And if you’re caught,” added the scruffy man. “don’t speak a word about us.”  
The red-headed woman elbowed the man disapprovingly.  
“I’ll ensure that I’m not seen.” Sportacus said with a nod.  
“I’ll lead you back out of the tunnel.” Said Irma.  
“Good luck, Sportacus.” Said the little girl.

Irma opened the door once more, and Sportacus gave a wave to the group before he left.

  
\--

As one of Alfenheim’s guards, Sportacus had been trained in many skills ranging from diving, weapons fighting, hand-to-hand combat, agility, and survival situation training.

Absent from that impressive list, however, was _stealth_.

So, one could imagine that Sportacus felt a little uneasy about having to sneak into the secret library. Of course, he could try and just ask for access to the library, but with Percival under suspicion and the rather lackadaisical attitude all the guards were under he felt this wouldn’t be a great idea.

Thus, sneaking was the only option left.

As he opened his bedroom door, Sportacus poked his head out and glanced side to side. Much to his surprise, both of the guards posted outside his door were missing.  
“They probably ran off to chase a butterfly or something.” Robbie mumbled.  
Sportacus gave a small smile and chuckled quietly before he snuck his way down the hallway.  
Slinking close to the wall, Sportacus kept an eye and an ear out for the noises and movement throughout the castle. As soon as a guard passed him, he’d stand casually and, if need be, he’d give a quick excuse of needing the bathroom or that he was looking for someone.  
And each time, he’d receive the same response: an eerie smile, a nod, and,  
“Oh okay! Have an absolutely _fantastic_ time!”  
It made a shiver run down Sportacus’s spine.

Within minutes he’d located the staircase from Wyatt’s map. He made short work trekking up the stairs at a hasty, but not suspiciously quick, pace. The halls were far darker now, with several of the torches extinguished in this particular stairwell.  
Judging from the lack of guards, Sportacus guessed this part of the castle wasn’t often patrolled, which seemed oddly negligent given the vast number of strong, if not absent-minded, guards.  
He soon reached the top of the stairs, which emptied out into yet another stone hallway with a red carpet draped across the floor. The far wall was dotted with doors, and the wall that Sportacus stood by was decorated with several stone statues of warriors and knights, all standing guard with their weapons posted in front of them.  
He was about to step out into the hallway when he heard footsteps coming from his left, his ear perking up at the noise.  
Sportacus gasped quietly and shot behind one of the statues, his back plastered against the statue’s, his armor rattling slightly. His heart beat furiously in his ears as he peeked from his hiding spot.  
His eyes widened once he realized that the footsteps belong to Percival, who looked decidedly more distracted than he had earlier. He was stroking his brooch almost obsessively as he paced down the hallway. He paused for a moment in front of the statute Sportacus was hiding behind, panicking the hero. The advisor looked about, before he shrugged and continued on. He stopped in front of a door and opened it. He took a moment to take a deep breath and exhale before he stepped inside.  
Sportacus fished for the map in his chestplate and unfolded it. He looked at the map, then back at the door Percival just went through.  
“That’s it, the mage’s library.” Sportacus said in a hushed voice.  
“And of course Percival is in there. Not suspicious at all.” Robbie hissed.  
“We don’t know what that means, Robbie. It could mean nothing. But what it does mean is looking at the books without questioning might be a bit tricky.” Sportacus said in response.  
Robbie hmm’d in response.  
“Do you think we should take a peek?” asked Sportacus.  
“You really want to risk that?”  
“Just a peek.” Sportacus said. “To see if Percival really is up to something. You said you were suspicious of him.”  
“I am, but I don’t know…” Robbie mumbled.  
“Just a quick one.” Said Sportacus.  
Robbie paused, then sighed.  
“Fine, but please for the love of the goddess, don’t _trip_.” Robbie hissed.  
“I promise I won’t.” Sportacus said with a smirk.

With that, Sportacus slunk across the floor, one hand keeping Robbie close to his body to prevent him from catching on something. Sportacus ducked behind the door and, ever so carefully, he crept along the door until he reached its edge right by the crack. He peeked in, inching in slowly until he finally could see clearly enough.  
Much to his surprise, Percival wasn’t looking through books as Sportacus thought he might. He wasn’t at the tables studying tomes. He wasn’t even mixing a potion at the alchemy table in the corner.  
No, instead he was feeling at a bare wall, his fingers grazing along the rough stone and his eyes fixated in a focused way.  
Sportacus could feel the question mark above his head.  
“ _What in the world is he doing?_ ” He thought.  
Percival kept feeling at the walls until his hand, for just a moment, dipped against the wall. He nodded and pressed that spot harder, the stone sinking into the wall and a click echoing in the room.  
Sportacus could feel the rumble beneath his feet, his eyes diverting momentarily to the shaking ground. When he looked up, he gaped as the wall parted away and, suddenly, he was blinded by a gloriously golden light.  
Blinking away the spots in his vision, Sportacus squinted and gazed, in awe, at the bounty of treasures that laid only feet away from him.  
How clever; of course, the Spoilero family would have some kind of hidden treasury. Most castles had one in these modern times to save some wealth in the case of an invasion.  
And this particular treasury put all other treasuries in the country to shame given its vast and spectacular treasure troves. Piles of golden coins were stacked high and nearly touched the ceiling. Precious gemstones of every kind dazzled and twinkled beneath the flickering light of the torches, reflecting rainbows on every flat surface. Beautiful and skillfully crafted pieces of armor were either tossed amongst the golden coins or were displayed neatly on mannequins and stands.   
Percival glanced once behind him, which forced Sportacus to duck fully behind the door, before he entered the glittering treasure room. Sportacus peeked back around the door and watched as Percival looked about the room of wonders.  
At first, the advisor seemed methodical in his search with him sifting through piles carefully and stacking aside treasures and trophies with care.  
After some time, however, his search grew increasingly more frantic and frustrated. He tossed aside some of the gold and treasures as he dug through a pile. As he reached a dead end, he clutched a handful of hair, a drawn-out sigh echoing into the hallway.  
“What do you think he’s looking for?” whispered Robbie.  
Sportacus bit his lip uneasily.  
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, he’s not finding it.” He whispered back.

It was during this little conversation that Sportacus, the usually perceptive and listening individual, failed to notice Prince Stingy himself walking right past them.  
He noticed, however, once the prince passed in front of him, and it took everything in Sportacus’s power not to scream or gasp in alarm. He instead sufficed by quickly, yet quietly, clapping a hand over his mouth and falling back onto his butt.  
Luckily, Prince Stingy seemed none the wiser. The prince’s attention, like earlier, was fixated almost madly upon the gold coins in his warm palm. Said coins clinked and jangled as he walked past and into the study.  
Sportacus sighed a sigh of relief before he clambered back onto his feet. He crept back to the end of the door and peeked around.  
Prince Stingy’s attention, for possibly only the second time that day, finally left his beloved coins as he looked up at the treasure room. Sportacus could see the prince’s body stiffen and a gasp escape him.  
“Percival?? What are you doing in _my_ treasure room?” He cried as he sprinted into the treasure room.  
Percival froze, his gaze snapping over to the prince. His startled look immediately faded to relief.  
“Oh, your highness. My apologies, I was just looking for something.” He said.  
“Why are you touching _my_ treasure? It’s _mine_! Leave!” shrieked the prince as he scooped up handfuls of gold.  
“My apologies, your highness. I shall leave you be.” Said Percival with a polite nod.  
The advisor wiped his hands off on his robe before he tucked his hands together, his sleeves coming together. He strode through the treasure room, his eyes fixed upon the far wall to avoid looking at the prince’s treasures. He passed swiftly by the prince who, after a moment, paused and looked up from his frenzied treasure checking.  
The prince’s manic expression melted, and the strained grimace soothed to a quiet look.  
“Wait.” Prince Stingy said.  
Percival halted and, as Sportacus could see, his expression shifted to one of confusion.  
“Um, yes, your highness?” He said, turning on his heel.  
Prince Stingy set down the golden goblet he was holding and looked over at his advisor.  
“What _were_ you looking for?” He asked quietly.  
“Well,” Percival said as he cleared his throat. “I was looking for a piece of armor our guest Sportacus requested. It’s supposedly a piece of the blessed armor our Goddess of Light fashioned herself.”  
The advisor looked down at the prince.  
“I wouldn’t suppose _you’d_ know where it is?”  
Prince Stingy nodded.  
“Of course. I know where every piece of _my_ treasure lies, though I have no clue why you’d want that particular piece. It’s not exactly what I’d call elegant, but I suppose you could have it if you wanted it.” He said as he played with some coins.  
Percival looked aghast but, nonetheless, he nodded.  
“Well, I’m certain Sportacus will thank you for your…generosity, my prince. Now, will you please show me where it is?” He said.  
“Of course.”  
“Splendid. Then where – “

“ _If_ , you’ll answer something for me.” Interrupted the prince.  
Percival froze mid-step. Reluctantly he returned to his original spot.  
“A-Anything for you, your highness.” He answered.  
Prince Stingy set aside the gold coins he held and stood back up. From Sportacus’s spot, he could see how the prince’s face twisted to one of quiet anger and grief.  
“What happened to my mother? How did she die?” He asked.  
Percival’s body noticeably stiffened. He frowned at the youth.  
“I’ve told you this before, your highness. Your mother died soon after dinner. She was found dead in her study, slumped over the desk.” He said.  
“And you found her first.”  
“Correct, my prince.”  
“And the royal coroners? Did they find out what _exactly_ caused her death?” asked the prince.  
“Well, n-no. They concluded that it was of natural causes.” Answered Percival.  
“Natural causes?!” Prince Stingy protested angrily. “Percival, my mother was the healthiest and most fit woman in the kingdom! Explain to me how someone like her could die of ‘natural causes’ if she was nowhere close to being of the age or health to die in that manner!”  
“Your highness, please don’t shout, there’s no need for such a voice.” Said Percival disapprovingly, his gaze dropping. “Things like this simply happen. It’s tragic, yes, but perfectly healthy people die every day, and no one knows exactly why. Just because your mother was in perfect health doesn’t make her exempt from death’s wishes and plans.”  
Prince Stingy crossed his arms and frowned frustratedly. He shook his head.  
“You disagree?”  
“No, I just don’t agree in this case.” Prince Stingy grumbled. “She died after dinner you said? Then perhaps there whatever caused her death occurred.”   
“A fishbone, perhaps?” suggested Percival weakly.  
Prince Stingy frowned and shook his head.  
“No, no that would’ve been seen. It must’ve been something else, perhaps a trick or…”  
Prince Stingy froze, his eyes widening.  
“…or poison.” He said in a hushed voice.  
“Prince Stingy, let us not be irrational.” Percival said calmingly.  
“Irrational?! My mother is dead! Dead, and she was in perfect health! I don’t see how you’re not more worried or at the very least suspicious about the cause of her death! You’re her royal advisor, the trusted council member for my family! You helped raise her! How can you be so calm and – “Prince Stingy ranted.

He stopped, and his face paled. His eyes returned to meet Percival’s.

“Wait, you were the first one to find her. You were the one who alerted the castle staff. You’re the one who oversaw her autopsy. Yet you haven’t shed a single tear this entire time.” Prince Stingy said in a dangerously quiet voice.  
Percival stared down at him.  
“You – “Prince Stingy started.

But before the prince could finish his sentence, the advisor surged forward and yanked him upwards by the collar. The prince gasped and flailed, his hands digging uselessly at the advisor’s wrists.  
Sportacus watched in horror, one hand gripping the door while the other one ghosted at his sword’s grip.  
“Have you gone mad?! Let go of me! Let go of me or I’ll have you imprisoned! Guards!” Prince Stingy shouted.  
“They won’t listen to you. Haven’t you seen them? They’re all lollygaggers and fools now. They’re useless to you.” Percival answered coolly.  
“You! You did something to them too, didn’t you?! Didn’t you?!” Prince Stingy shrieked.  
“Enough of this. I think you need a little more of your special treatment. You’ve clearly been overcome by grief. Understandable. No worries, you won’t remember this in just a moment.” Percival stated darkly as he snapped his fingers.  
Sportacus gasped as Percival’s free hand lit up a bright, sickly green. Percival stared dangerously at the prince as he reached for his medallion. The green glow from his hand instantly shot into the medallion and, thus, into the prince. Immediately Prince Stingy’s angered expression vanished and was replaced with a dull, wide-eyed look. His eyes flashed a brief green color before returning to normal.  
With that, Percival quietly and gently placed the prince back down on the floor. Taking a breath to collect himself, he took on a fake, surprised expression.  
“Oh your highness! I’m sorry to tell you this, but I believe I saw a few guards in your treasury. I think they were trying to take some of your coins for themselves.” He said casually.  
Prince Stingy blinked and, immediately, his face twisted into an enraged expression.  
“What?! How dare they?! This is _my_ treasure, and they can’t touch it!” He yelled as he dove for his golden coins. He grasped at them possessively as he began to obsessively count each and every one of them.  
“I’ll see to it that they are punished. In the meantime, I’ll leave you to your counting.” Said Percival as he turned away.  
The prince gave no further response.

Sportacus got up and, despite his shock, he managed to duck behind another statue before Percival emerged back into the hallway.  
The advisor looked a little shaken, but he nonetheless brushed his hair back and sighed.  
“It’s in there somewhere, he said it as much. I’ll find it later, once the prince has calmed down a bit.” He muttered to himself.  
He glanced back one more time before he casually strode down the hall.  
Sportacus watched from his hiding place until Percival had walked far enough out of sight. He emerged from behind the statue, his heart beating fast and his mind swimming. He glanced back at the treasure room just long enough to see the prince continue his obsessive checking.  
“Any doubts left, Sportacus?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus shook his head slowly.  
“No, not one bit.” He answered quietly. “We have to warn the others. Come on.”

With that Sportacus, quickly yet as quietly as he could, snuck back down the stairs and to his room.

\--

Great haste was taken by Sportacus as soon as he reached the hidden tunnels beneath his room. Water and grime squished under his boots as he sprinted down the dark and winding hallways, a few spare rats squeaking and scurrying away as he ran. He panted and searched desperately until he found the wooden door.  
Reaching it, he pounded his fist against it quickly and firmly.  
“The swallow flies high in the south.” Said a voice.  
“What?” asked Sportacus before he shook his head. “Please, it’s Sportacus. You have to let me in, I found out something important!”  
“Answer the rhyme. How do we know you aren’t being followed?” asked the voice.  
“Please!” begged Sportacus. “I know who’s making all the townsfolk act odd! It’s the royal advisor!”  
The person at the door hesitated.  
Then, slowly, the door creaked open.  
“Wait, what? What did you say?” asked Wyatt.  
“Wyatt, please! You see I’m not being followed, right? I have important information to share.” Sportacus said desperately.  
Wyatt glanced out behind Sportacus before he nodded.  
“Hurry, get inside.” He said as he held the door open.  
Sportacus nodded at him thankfully as he snuck inside.

The group of remaining, sane townsfolk were seated around a small fire. They all stood up and looked expectantly at Sportacus once he entered the secret room.  
“Well? Where is it? Where’s the spellbook?” asked Irma expectantly.  
“I…I couldn’t get it. But I have just as important news. I think I know who cursed your friends and neighbors.” Sportacus said.  
“Really? Well, who is it?” asked the red-headed woman.  
“Yeah! Tell us so we can lynch the jerk!” the scruffy man growled.  
“Isaac, please.” Wyatt chided.  
“I can’t condone that, but even if I did you’d have a hard time trying that. I believe the one who cursed your friends is, well, the royal advisor, Percival Pries.” Sportacus stated.  
The group murmured to themselves.  
“The royal advisor? But how? And why?” asked the red-headed woman.  
“I don’t know, but I saw him curse the prince. He made him absolutely obsessed with treasure and, I think, erased his short-term memory. If he can do that, then I can’t doubt that he could brainwash everyone else too.” Sportacus.

The group stopped, looked at Sportacus with incredulous disappointment, then shook their heads.  
“Sportacus, we know you’re new here but…Prince Stingy acting selfish and greedy? That’s nothing new. Fact is, the whole family has a bit of gold fever. We’re used to it in this kingdom.” Said Wyatt.  
“Very well, but I still saw Percival use magic on him, and it was only after that he started shrieking and clasping at his treasure.” Sportacus said.  
“Shrieking? Now that is…sort of new.” Said the red-headed woman.  
Wyatt shook his head and stepped forward.  
“Nonetheless, we do know that the advisor used magic on the prince that changed his behavior, however little it may be. That’s still suspicious.” He said.  
“And that’s not it.” Sportacus continued. “It was _when_ he used the spell that was suspect. The prince started asking about what happened to his mother, the queen.”  
The group bowed their heads in a sign of respect before they let Sportacus continue.  
“I overheard and saw them. The prince seemingly suspected that Percival played a role in her death before he cast the spell.” He said.  
“That – “Irma started, her face growing pale.  
The little girl’s eyes watered.  
Isaac shook his head angrily.  
“The bastard…” He muttered. “No doubt about it for me. It’s one thing to accuse, it’s another thing to throw magic at your accuser. The advisor’s guilty, and I agree with Sportacus, he _has_ to be the one who’s caused all this trouble.”  
  
Wyatt nodded and stood before the group.  
“I think we’ve heard enough. We can’t wait any longer. We must come up with a plan to overthrow Percival and rescue our prince. He could be in grave danger, and if we want any hope of healing our friends, we need to get rid of that advisor.” He said.  
“But how? There’s only ten of us, and Percival has the entire royal army at his beck and call.” Asked a man.  
“I never said it’d be easy. But what do we have left to lose? We could do nothing or try something. And I don’t know about you but doing something sounds like a far better option.”  
“We don’t even have weapons.” Noted Isaac doubtfully.  
“No,” Wyatt admitted. “But we have _a_ weapon.”  
He clapped Sportacus’s back and nodded  
“Wait, _me_?” asked Sportacus.  
“You’re obviously a warrior, Sportacus. Out of all of us, you have the most battle training and strategy. You must lead us.” Irma said sagely.  
“We’re rebels at heart, but still we’re mostly laborers and academics. You’re our most physically strong member, Sportacus.” Wyatt said.  
“Plus, Percival doesn’t know you’re with us. You could provide us an opening to storm the castle and force him to free our friends.” The red-headed woman said.  
“You’re still our in, Sportacus.” Wyatt said with a small smile. “What do you say?”  
Sportacus bit his lip and thought over the group’s “plan”. It wasn’t much of anything and given that their numbers included people who not only had no fighting experience but were physically at a disadvantage, the odds were far against them.  
But Sportacus couldn’t think of another plan. Anything else involved far more manpower than they could obtain in their limited amount of time.  
He nodded.  
“I’m in.’ He said. “Robbie?”  
“It’s stupid, and we’ll probably die. But hey, might as well try something, and you’ve got blessed armor. So at least we’ll most likely not die, but not sure.”  
“Is that a yes, or do you want to make everyone more nervous?” asked Sportacus with a disapproving look.  
“Just saying, it’s a crazy plan. But our adventure’s been nothing but crazy plans, so it’s a yes from me.” Relented Robbie.  
“And we’re all in too.” Answered Irma.  
“Then we’re settled.” Wyatt said. “Tomorrow, Sportacus will create an opening for us to storm the castle and, hopefully, fight as few guards as possible. And, all luck on our side and the Goddess’s blessing, our friends will be normal by lunchtime. Let’s all get some sleep. It’s a big day tom – “  
  
A pair of hands clapped.  
The group froze. They slowly turned towards the sound.  
Slowly a figure emerged from the shadows by the door, their hands still clapping. As the moonlight illuminated their figure, they were revealed to be Percival, a pleasant smile on his face.  
“I must say, that plan does sound brave, if not foolhardy. A shame I’ll never see it in action.” Said Percival.  
His gaze turned to Sportacus.  
“Fantastic job, by the way, in leading me to the last remaining resistance in the kingdom. You’ve truly saved me quite a bit of searching.” He said.  
“What?” asked Sportacus in a hushed voice.  
He looked at the rebels, who all stared at him in shock.  
“You…” Wyatt said in anger.  
“I-I didn’t know…” Sportacus pleaded.  
“Oh, don’t get too mad at him, historian. He’s telling the truth.” Said Percival placatingly.  
Percival stepped forward as the tunnel became swarmed with eerie, grinning guards, all decked to the teeth in armor and weaponry.  
“He’s an honest one but isn’t terribly good at hiding or sneaking. Yes, I saw you by the statue, Sportacus. Good attempt though. Next time, sneak _without_ the armor.” He said simply.  
“I-If you heard me, then – “Sportacus started.  
“Why didn’t I confront you? I suspected you might be working with the rebels, so I decided to stay my hand. And lo and behold, you led me straight to them! Patience is its own reward I see.”  
The guards circled around the rebels, forming a collar of pointed spears and swords. The little girl in the group squeaked in fear as the group was closed in. Wyatt and Irma still prepared for a fight, though without weapons they were hopelessly outgunned.  
“Don’t hurt them!” stated Sportacus fearfully.  
“You think so little of me, Sportacus.” Percival stated sadly. “I wouldn’t dare raise a hand to _good_ citizens of Spoilero. We just need to borrow them for a time.”  
He turned a cold eye to Sportacus.  
“Just like we need to borrow you too.”

Sportacus heard someone move behind him. He turned just before a wooden club slammed into his head with an echoing _thud_. Pain immediately flooded his mind and sent his vision spiraling into black. Unable to control himself, he collapsed onto the floor, a groan escaping his lips.  
As his vision faded, he saw the newly befriended townsfolk corralled into a corner by the grinning guards. Wyatt and Irma were shouting about something and Sportacus could see them attempt to fight, but they were subdued quickly.  
He heard one last shout before he finally fell unconscious, his head slacking against the stone floor.

\--

“Let go of me you brute! Let go!”

The muffled shout from Robbie stirred Sportacus from his extended state of unconsciousness. He stirred, his vision blurred and wavering as his limp head finally forced itself to lift. He blinked and stared at the space in front of him.  
The light wherever he was rather dim with only a few streams of moonlight pouring overhead. Distantly, he could see a torch or two floating…hanging off the wall. He also had an idea that there were quite a few people with him, wherever he was.  
A person crouched in front of him, and finally his vision began to clear.  
He really wished the first person he recognized after waking up wasn’t Percival, who stared at him with barely a caring glance.  
“Well, good morning. Sleep well?” He asked.  
Sportacus groaned. On cue his head was filled with a thudding sensation that left an ache running through him.  
“Hmm, thought so. Not too many people do well after getting a club to the head.” Said Percival.  
“Robbie…” Sportacus groaned as he looked about wearily.  
Glancing to his left, he froze.  
Off to his left, there stood a hulking soldier built like a tank, that smile plastered on his face. Stuck firmly in his grip was Robbie, who was currently wiggling and squirming in the man’s grip.  
“Sportacus! Are you okay?” Robbie asked.  
“I-I am. Where are we?” asked Sportacus.  
“I can answer that. Welcome to the Spoilero prison, friend Sportacus.” Said Percival with a false warmness. “Don’t get up by the way. You can’t, though you’re perfectly allowed to try.”  
It was at that moment that Sportacus realized that his arms were raised up by his head. He looked over and finally noticed the chains strapped to his wrists, keeping his arms up high and apart. He grunted and tugged at the chains, but they didn’t budge.  
He looked angrily at Percival.  
“What’re you doing, Percival? Where are the townsfolk? What have you done with them?” He asked.  
“Hmm? Oh yes, the rebels.” Percival said with a nod. “Not a worry, Sportacus, they’re safe. I haven’t done anything to them yet.”  
“ ‘Yet’?” asked Sportacus.  
“Yet. They are traitors, after all. I just wanted to make sure you survived that nasty blow to the head before I dealt with them. You can imagine they aren’t as high of a priority compared to you.” Percival said as he waved at a guard.

The guard pulled open Sportacus’s cell door, allowing Sportacus full sight into the hallway. His eyes widened once he noticed the townsfolk crowded into a cell adjacent to him. The group were kept back against the wall by guards, who had their spears trained towards their throats. The littlest girl was visibly trembling.  
Sportacus’s heart dropped as he gritted his teeth.  
“If you dare hurt them…” He started.  
“Hurt them? Oh no worries, Sportacus. Spoilero is a civilized society, and civilized societies wouldn’t be civilized if we simply eliminated troublesome societal members.” Percival said as he snapped his fingers.  
His right hand was immediately eclipsed by a green light. His brooch hummed and glowed in tandem.  
“They just a little re-education, a little reminder of etiquette, then they’ll be on their ways.” He said simply as he turned and left the cell.  
Sportacus, realizing what Percival meant, struggled harder with his restraints as he watched helplessly. He watched as Percival approached the group, the green glow from his hands growing brighter as he approached them. The guards changed their formation, instead encircling the group and Percival, blocking Sportacus’s view.  
He could hear the pleading protests of some of the townsfolk, mixed with some cries and angered threats.

The green light burst forth, filling the adjacent cell with blinding, green light.

Then it was gone, and so went the protests and cries.

Sportacus blinked the spots out of his vision. As his vision cleared again, the adjacent cell’s door swung open. The grinning guards filed out, their spears at their sides. Next came Percival, who brushed his hands carefully on his robe.  
Finally came the townsfolk, and the sight made Sportacus’s heart drop to his stomach.  
These rebels, these new allies of his, people he’d met and sympathized with their plight.  
They came out in a single file line, arms at their sides and their sights trained away from him and towards the hallway.  
And all of them, down to the oldest and youngest members, bore those same, eerie, smiles.  
Percival clapped his hands together and re-entered Sportacus’s cell with a sigh.  
“Alright, that can be checked off the to-do list. Now to deal with you.” He said simply.  
“You’re a monster.” Said Sportacus in a hushed voice.  
Percival quirked an eyebrow.  
“I wouldn’t call it wise to insult me, especially given the distribution of power right now.” He said.  
“You brainwashed them. You brainwashed a child and an elderly woman. You took away their rights to an identity.” Sportacus said, his anger rising.  
“Harsh words. I’d prefer to think that I’m saving them, Sportacus. You must’ve seen them earlier, they were _devastated_ by the loss of their queen. I’m simply helping them cope while keeping order in a traumatized kingdom.” Percival said with a shrug.  
“You mean the queen you _murdered_?” spat Robbie.  
Percival frowned at the sword.  
“Such wild accusations. I’m a man with good intentions.”  
“No man with good intentions would wear a brooch with the crest of Filonius Craw so blatantly and openly.” Robbie said darkly.

Percival froze, his expression deadening.  
“I thought that brooch was familiar, but I didn’t remember what it was. But after _that_ insulting display of dark magic, I know exactly what it is.” Robbie growled.  
“You…know about Filonius Craw?” He asked.  
“Yes, and I know you’re a sick man for using such dark magic against innocents.” Robbie said angrily.  
“There’s order still, isn’t there?” protested Percival. “Perhaps you didn’t know this, but the Kingdom of Spoilero has been a mess of inequality for decades, all because of the royal family. Despite this, the citizens love their royals to the point of stupidity. The queen’s death should’ve been a triumph for the disenfranchised citizens, a chance to destabilize the corrupt monarchy, but _no_. They grieved. So, I’m simply keeping the peace until a new, better management can take charge.”  
“What? You?” asked Sportacus in disbelief.  
Percival looked at the elf with a sickly smirk.  
“Something like that. My upper management will be more in charge, but I play the key role as leader. You could say my management isn’t much of a people person.” He said.   
Sportacus’s eyes widened until they were overcome by a glare.  
“You lay a hand on the prince, and I will see to it that you don’t see daylight again.” He growled.  
“Such a threat coming from a chained man.” Mocked Percival with a small smile. “But I suppose I do have a reason to be wary of you. I imagine you’re quite a fighter, even without your blessed armor. It’d be unwise of me to leave you alone, even chained up.”  
Percival gripped his hand into a fist. When he released it, his hand filled with a sickly green light.  
Sportacus’s expression betrayed some of his fear.  
“Knowing you and your sword, you’d figure out a way to escape somehow. Might as well secure that that won’t happen, right?” Percival said as he reached towards Sportacus’s face.

“NO!” shouted Robbie as he swung himself fiercely and haphazardly, his blade connecting with something hard and fleshy.  
A shriek echoed through the cell, and as Robbie fell to the floor he noticed the guard that once held him gripping his furiously bleeding hand, the pain in his eyes hauntingly contrasting the blank grin he bared.  
Robbie clattered to the floor and he immediately threw himself back up. Turning to stare at Percival, he hopped and leapt towards the advisor.  
Percival, however, simply looked at Robbie with contempt.  
“Enough of this nonsense.” He growled, as he shot a burst of green energy straight at Robbie.  
“Robbie! Watch out!” shouted Sportacus.  
But it was too late. Robbie was thrown back against the wall by the energy, him grunting in pain as he connected with the stone wall. A crackling noise filled the air as bright green, glowing crystals grew instantaneously around his blade, building up a cluster of several inches thick crystal that grew up almost to his hilt.  
Robbie squirmed and attempted to crack the crystal, but he was stuck fast. Too much movement threatened to snap him into pieces.  
Percival sneered at him as he lowered his hand.  
“You have quite the spirit in you, sword. You must’ve been a great fighter in your human life.” He commented as he slowly approached the trapped Robbie.  
Sportacus immediately started pulling at the chains again as he watched Percival approach his weapon.   
Robbie panted uneasily as the advisor approached him.  
“Ah, but what warrior is well versed in obscure mages of old? Certainly, none that I’ve met.” Said Percival as he looked back at Sportacus.  
Sportacus just glared at the advisor.  
“No, none at all. Perhaps you aren’t a warrior.” Percival said as he turned back to Robbie.

He crouched down to stare Robbie right in his gemstone.  
“Call me a curious sort, but who exactly _are_ …or _were_ you?” He asked casually.  
“As if I’d tell you. Bug off.” Spat Robbie defiantly.  
“Hmph, very well. You’ve forced my hand. I _hate_ to do this, but if you won’t tell me nicely, I’ll figure out your identity for myself.” Said Percival in a resigned tone, before his hand surged forward and pressed against the gemstone.  
A green light poured forward and spilt into Robbie, highlighting his entire self in the green glow.  
Robbie grumbled and grunted uncomfortably as a low groan escaped him, its tone pained and strained.  
“L-Leave him alone!” shouted Sportacus desperately as he fought with his chains.  
Percival hushed him as he continued pouring his magic into Robbie.  
He nodded and made inquisitive noises that clashed with Robbie’s uncomfortable noises.  
“Hmm, well nothing unusual so far. Childhood is normal, you trained at the academy and…”  
His eyes widened.  
“Oh. _Oh_ , oh isn’t this fascinating.” He said with a toothy grin as he finally let Robbie go.  
Robbie gasped and coughed as the green magic finally left him completely.  
Percival patted Robbie in a demeaning fashion before he turned to Sportacus.  
“That was an interesting ride. Truly, quite interesting to read someone’s mind like a book. Though I’m certain you know all about his little stories, don’t you Sportacus?”  
“What are you talking about?” asked Sportacus.  
“Sportacus – “gasped Robbie.  
“I suppose you aren’t in the know, hmm? Your little friend there has quite a few secrets he’s holding back. Too bad you two aren’t good enough friends for him to confide to you with them.” Percival taunted pointedly.  
Sportacus frowned in confusion.  
“I-I don’t…what…you’re messing with me.” He said.  
“Am I? I suppose I could be, but what if I’m not? I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re trapped here, and in just a moment you won’t be able to question whatever I saw.” Percival said with a sigh.  
  
He paused, then glanced back at Robbie.

“I must ask, however. Tell me, how _is_ Moss Fell? Did it ever recover after what _you_ did there?” He asked quietly.

If Robbie had a face, it’d pale to a ghastly gray at that moment. He stared in shock at Percival, before his gaze turned to Sportacus.  
His heart froze. The elf’s expression had transitioned to one of confused fear. He slowly looked at Robbie, the look on his face weakening to one of pleading denial, as if his own mind was attempting to fill in the blanks.  
“R-Robbie? He’s lying, isn’t he? W-What is he talking about?” He asked quietly.  
Robbie’s heart broke.  
“S-Sportacus…I’m sorry…” He started, before another blast of green energy shot straight at his gemstone.  
More crystal grew over him and completely encased him against the wall. If Robbie wanted to move, he couldn’t. Even his screams and cries were muffled by the thick casing of crystal, and he could only narrowly hear the others outside.  
“I’m sorry to interrupt this _touching_ moment, but I do have things to do.” Said Percival as he looked at Sportacus. “And as for you, it’s time for you to take a long, deserved, nap.”   
His hand glowed a bright green once more.  
Sportacus attempted to back away, his gaze turning to stare fearfully at Robbie as he pressed himself against the wall, his escape routes gone. Percival pressed his fingers straight into his forehead, and the green light flowed into his head.  
Sportacus gasped and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The green light filled, like water in a jug, his eyes until they were eclipsed by the green energy. A similarly colored ooze momentarily dripped from his eyes until his eyelids mercifully closed, his head slackening and his body going limp.  
From within the crystal, Robbie screamed Sportacus’s name in horror.  
“There we go. Much better, yes? You’ll have a nice nap, I’m sure. And now only one last bit of housecleaning to do.” Percival said to himself.

Turning on his heel, he prepared to walk out of the cell before he stopped, giving Robbie one last, mocking look.

“Isn’t it deliciously ironic? You got yourself in this mess with dark magic, now you’ll lose yet another person in your life to that same magic. It’s almost poetic.” Taunted Percival.

Robbie angrily shouted a muffled curse from within his crystalline prison.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a boat to catch. Can’t launch a new trading ship without the royal advisor, now can they?” smirked Percival, as he turned and locked the cell door behind him, leaving Robbie and his unconscious wielder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should just stop saying if I think there's a long pause for updates since it never remains true XD
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy this chapter and I will at least say I'll try not to keep the cliffhanger too long.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. The Voyage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick warning, there's a bit of body horror near the end of the chapter. Please be careful as you read. If you want to know where it starts, it's around the time Percival enters the chapter again, so please be wary and let me know if you'd like additional tags or warnings added!

He could feel something pecking at his cheek sharply. It was the first sensation he felt.

It poked like a needle and drove like a drill. He could feel it peck incessantly, as if searching for something.

Accompanying it soon came another something pecking at his head. It was trying to bore a hole, Sportacus presumed.

When he felt a third thing peck and pull at his lip, Sportacus finally drew completely awake.

Opening his eyes, Sportacus froze at the sight of three, large, scraggly blackbirds that surrounded him and stared at him with their beady eyes and inquisitive beaks.  
The one that he presumed was pecking at his cheek crowed at him menacingly before flapping its wings to unceremoniously abandon him wherever he was. His other blackbird friends joined him soon afterwards, the three circling for a minute before they roosted in a dead tree a few feet away.  
Blinking, and with the menace of the birds gone, Sportacus tried to wiggle his toes to get a feel for himself, only to feel his toes unable to respond.  
For a moment, Sportacus’s mind jumped to the worse possible conclusion, and his gaze instantly shot downwards.  
On one hand, good news, his foot as well as the rest of his body was still completely intact.

On the less good news, Sportacus soon saw _why_ he couldn’t make himself budge.

In short, he was encased, near completely entombed by shining, pink crystal. It grew like an overzealous plant in multiple pillars that drew together into a single, impenetrable wall that trapped him firmly up to his collar bone. His arms were trapped at his sides, and his legs were frozen in a sort of athletic stance. From where he was, Sportacus could only manage to move his head and neck.  
Sportacus grunted and pulled feverishly to free himself, but to no avail. The crystal wouldn’t budge nor yield and, soon, Sportacus found himself growing weary of his struggle. His head slumped as he finally gave in, his energy spent.  
Breathing deeply, Sportacus lifted his head as he decided to finally look around at where he was. Most disconcertingly, not only didn’t he recognize where he was, he was fairly certain _no one_ knew where this place was because it was decidedly unearthly in appearance.  
Sportacus soon theorized that the place where he was trapped was some sort of island given that a pool of pale pink water was all he could see for miles in any direction, however he was clearly on solid ground. The sand beneath the crystalline coffin he was trapped in was a pale lavender color and seemed far thicker than average sand. The water lapped at the shore and, with a close listen, Sportacus couldn’t hear any sound, not even the cawing of those blackbirds.  
“H-Hello?” Sportacus decided to hazard, in hopes there might be someone out there.

He gained no response.

“Anyone here? Please, help me! I’m stuck!” He cried as he once again tried to tug himself free.  
“Careful, hero.”  
Sportacus froze once he heard the voice. He knew that voice, but, where was he?  
He once again decided to hazard a question.  
“B…Brother?” He asked, looking around.  
There was no answer.  
Sportacus felt his hopes droop.  
“Careful, chosen hero.”  
Sportacus stopped, his ear perking up. It sounded much like his brother was…above him?  
With a grunt of exertion, Sportacus twisted himself enough to look up and behind him.  
He caught a glimpse of a shadow, both of a man and an object that forced the blood from his face.  
Behind him, up high on the tall crystalline structures that loomed behind him, his brother crouched atop a flatter piece of crystal. He was lording over his brother, his expression stern and cold. He held something thin, a string of some sort, between two fingers and poised right above Sportacus’s head.  
Said string was attached to, what appeared to be, Robbie, the blade pointing down.  
Sportacus’s ears pinned back and his pupils shrunk.  
“B-B-Brother? What is that?” He asked.  
Íþro simply made a small grunting noise as his gaze returned to his hand.  
“Burden.” He answered simply.  
Sportacus furrowed his brow.  
“Burden? Of what?” He asked.

“Sportacus!” called a voice.  
Sportacus looked away from his brother and back towards the lake.  
He then noticed the figures that suddenly were standing in the lake, their gazes turned to him and their stances stalk straight.  
He recognized all of them: Princess Stephanie, Lord Meanswell, Lady Busybody, Kilgrim, Valda, Ziggy, Prince Stingy, even Húmi and his family.  
All of them stood there, standing straight like soldiers, their eyes fixated upon them.  
Sportacus’s eyes darted back and forth to each of them.  
“We’re counting on you, Sportacus!” chirped Princess Stephanie.  
“It’s up to you to save us from the Darkness!” added Lord Meanswell.  
“You’re the one with the armor, boy! Teach that god a lesson!” bellowed Kilgrim.  
“Avenge my family for me, Sportacus.” Said Húmi quietly.  
Sportacus looked at them both confused and touched, but mostly confused.  
“I-I will, but if I can ask, how are you all here -?” He asked.  
Their faces drooped as he asked his question and, suddenly, a buzz split through the air.

And all of them were on fire.

Sportacus gasped in horror and struggled harder to free himself, but the crystal refused to budge as usual. He grunted and cried out in frustration, his eyes darting back towards his burning friends. Strangely, none of them seemed disturbed about this turn of events, nor did any of them seem to be affected by the flames.  
However, it was when he looked back that he noticed that the lake was far more populated. There were _hundreds_ of people, no _thousands_ , standing in the lake, and all were on fire.  
Sportacus squinted, and soon realized that the others were all elves. Some he recognized, most unfamiliar, but all elves.  
“You must save us!” They chorused. “Save us NOW!”  
“I’m trying!” Sportacus pleaded weakly as he continued to pull and strain. “Please! I-I’ll be right there!”  
But with his declaration, a clapping boom rang through the area. And right before Sportacus’s eyes, the thousands of denizens populating the lake dissipated into piles of black ash and dissolved in the pink water, leaving no trace that they were ever there.  
Sportacus blinked and stared in confusion, and the more he blinked the less he felt clarified.  
“W-What? How did they…what’s going on here…” He pondered to himself with unease.

He heard something rustling beside him.

Turning to look, Sportacus stopped once he noticed the newest member of his strange island. The newest intruder, however, left Sportacus feeling even more anxious about his entrapped state.  
Its back was turned to Sportacus, but he could see that the beast was _gigantic_ , with it most likely easily lording in height over himself. Its body was a pitch-black color, with legs like a wolf’s and arms thick like tree trunks. It was crouched over the lake, its head dipped down to take long, indulgent drinks of the cool water.  
Sportacus stared both in wonder and terror. As he stared, he soon realized that, strangely, the beast was dressed in armor, hence the blue-ish gray metal that contrasted with its pitch-black skin. A mane of wild, black hair curled and furled in the air, acting like the flames of a campfire.  
Something was clutched in one of its hands, but from Sportacus’s angle, he couldn’t see what.  
Sportacus continued to watch as the beast drank and drank, it making small growling noises as it continued to consume more lake water. It felt like an hour had passed by the time it stood, its full height now made clear to Sportacus, along with the rather elegant antlers jutting from its head, made of the same color as its armor.  
The beast looked about it, but it never looked at Sportacus. It growled at something in the distance before it started to lumber away, its body clinking with its heavy armor.  
As it moved, Sportacus could finally see what it clutched in its claws, and the sight stopped his heart.  
His brother laid there on the ground, sprawled out and unconscious, his head gripped firmly in the beast’s claws.  
“Íþro!” He called out, not considering the beast’s response.  
The beast stopped for just long enough to snap its gaze at Sportacus. Sportacus, despite his attempts to remain brave, cowered back.  
The beast’s four eyes, framed by its impressive antlers, squinted at him with scrutiny. It hissed and growled lowly at him before it continued to lumber away, carrying with it Sportacus’s brother.  
Sportacus wrestled and continued to fight with the crystal even when the beast was long out of sight. He cried out in frustration and near collapsed against his prison, tears rolling down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure of where he was, but if this wasn’t all real he was getting tired of the games. He wanted out.

“Hero, huh burden heavy? Love you people the help can’t?” chirped a voice above him mockingly.  
Sportacus stopped, a frown eclipsing his face. He stared upwards.  
The sword was now being held aloft by Percival, who smirked at him sweetly.  
“Fool a such. Fall will burden. Fail will you. Love you people? Die all.” Percival sang mockingly as he swung the sword back and forth.  
“Let me go, Percival. If this is one of your tricks, it isn’t funny.” Sportacus said angrily.  
“Temper, temper! Loss beware! You on fall will sword.” Continued Percival, his head twisting upside down as he sang.  
Sportacus shuddered.  
“This isn’t real then. This is some sort of weird dream you made for me.” Sportacus said thoughtfully.  
He stared at Percival defiantly.  
“Well, if this is a dream, then I can change it as I like!” Sportacus said with determined smile.  
Percival shook his head mockingly and tsk’d the hero.  
“Wrong wrong! Fail you! Sword the goes down!” said Percival as he yanked the string upwards sharply.  
Sportacus gasped and flinched as the sword plummeted down, its tip aimed directly at Sportacus’s head. As he begged for his in-dream death to not be permanent, he felt the oddest sensation like a wind blowing through his soul.  
He dared to open one eye, and he soon saw that the sword missed him completely. Instead, it imbedded itself in the beach in front of him.  
Said beach, however, was beginning to crack and split apart.  
Sportacus heard a nasty giggle next to his ear. Glancing over, his recoiled once he saw Percival’s face coil near him, his body morphing into a snake’s.  
“Drown will you! Swim can you hope!” He taunted as he leapt into the water.  
Sportacus watched in disbelief as Percival’s body melted in the lake. It melted into a pool of black ooze which, after a moment, solidified once more into an amorphous, sea serpent like being that darted across the water and towards the horizon.

And with Percival gone, it was then that the island really began to split apart.  
Fissures broke and groaned beneath Sportacus as the huge creation of crystal shattered and fell into the pink waters. The beach underneath him sank and funneled out, the sand spilling away as a sinkhole formed beneath him. The water rapidly flooded the newly formed hole, and it was rising quickly to meet Sportacus’ chin.  
Sportacus, as futile as it was, continued to struggle with his crystal prison as the water rose. He tilted his head up even as the water lapped and pressed at his chin, begging him to give in and sink, but Sportacus refused. He refused even as the water slunk over his mouth and he was soon running out of breathing space.  
Sportacus gasped and shuddered, giving in to the panic for a moment. Water flooded his face for a second, but he lifted his face and choked, spitting up the colorful water. He panted and forced himself to try and stay afloat, but without his limbs it was hopeless.  
As he sank, his eyes turned to horizon once more, a tear rolling down his face as he tried to prepare himself for his watery demise.

When he looked, he saw one more person staring at him from a distance.

From where he was, he couldn’t discern any details, but one thing he knew for certain was that the person was dressed in long, flowing, purple robes.

That was all he could discern, however, before the water engulfed him, and he slipped completely below the surface.

\--

Robbie’s heart sunk lower as he continued to fruitlessly struggle with his crystalline prison. His attempts at movement resulted in no such movement given the confines of his restraints, with the crystal packed so close that if he’d been a human, he’d have suffocated a long time ago. His heart was beating fast in his ears, his breathing growing tenser and louder as he struggled continuously for nothing. It was probably his panicky state of mind to blame, but it felt almost like the crystalline walls were closing in around him, threatening to crush and mulch him into a metal ball with nothing left of his usual form, or _him_ for that matter.  
The crystal prison felt burning hot, despite such heat not supposedly able to bother him, it left Robbie feeling sticky and uncomfortable.  
He stopped struggling, and his gaze fell back to his companion.  
Sportacus still hung there limply, his head ducked and his arms pulled up behind him. Vaguely, through the fractal lens of geometric crystal, Robbie thought he could hear him mumble and see him twitch.  
Another glob of glowing green goo rolled down his cheek.  
“Oh Sportacus…” said Robbie mournfully as he once again struggled with the crystal.

No such luck. The obvious was becoming all the more painful: he was stuck fast, and, without outside intervention, he’d never be free.

Robbie stopped and cried in frustration. He cursed the walls of crystal that kept him trapped but, mostly, he cursed himself.  
“If only I had my magic, I might be able to free us…” He cried.  
At that moment, he knew that the wicked Percival was off on a boat with the prince in tow. At that moment, the prince’s life was in danger. At that moment, the Darkness was growing in power with Sportacus the only one with the power to stop it.  
But at that moment, their adventure looked over. He was trapped, and Sportacus had been placed in a magically induced coma.  
Hope was lost.  
Robbie sniffled and gasped, his breathing low and labored as he collected himself. As much as he could, he looked up towards the ceiling.  
“P-Please, dear Goddess, have mercy. I just need a little magic, just a little. Enough to break myself free and save him. I-I can’t let him be trapped here, I have too much to tell him, and the world needs him.” He begged quietly.  
He sniffed once more.  
“I promise you, if you help me get free, I’ll free him and tell him everything. I’ll finally come clean about who I am. Just…please…” He said as he grew quiet.

He stopped and rested. He sighed tiredly as his gaze returned to Sportacus.

The elf’s face had twisted to one of discomfort.

“Please…” said Robbie in a near whisper.

…

“ _Break. Break._ ” Robbie started to chant, out of some hope, some thin sliver, that maybe it’d work.  
He dug deep into his memories, looking for his old spells and incantations. They were so distant, so fuzzy, but he remembered one of his basics.  
“ _Break. Break. Break._ ” Robbie said more fervently. He imagined the crystal cracking and shattering. He imagined freedom.  
All the while, he felt something burn within him.  
“ _Break. Break. Break. Break._ ” He said even faster, a hyper energy growing within him, and the burning felt even more intense.  
A hum filled the small pocket he was trapped in.  
“ _Break. Break. Break. Break. Break._ ” Robbie continued, his pace growing sloppy yet impassioned, his mind overtaken by the heat and his words.  
Did the crystal always look so purple?  
“ _Break. Break. BREAK._ ” He finally spoke, shrieking at the last ‘break’.

And then it did.

The crystal groaned and creaked, with long streaks of cracks and breaks forming along its pristine surface. Pieces broke off in chunks before finally his crystalline prison near exploded, a thin purple mist forcefully shot through the wider cracks. The crystal crumbled into pieces on the floor and vanished into the stonework.  
Robbie collapsed onto the ground, his breathing frantic and short. Shakily, he lifted himself up, his point digging into the floor as he looked around in disbelief.  
“W-What?” He stuttered as he looked around, then down at himself.  
In the blade, he saw the reflection of a purple glow that slowly faded away.  
Purple. Like his old spells’ color.  
“Did I -?” He started, before elation filled his heart.  
He hopped up in joy.  
“Oh thank the Goddess! Thank you! Thank you!” He cheered excitedly. “I’m back! I’m back!”  
He stopped once he remembered Sportacus.  
Hopping over to the elf, he scanned him and the green goo that still oozed from one of his eyes.  
“A fever spell. Of course, Percival couldn’t make it easy.” Robbie muttered as he looked his wielder over.  
Leaning over, he tapped Sportacus’s side repeatedly.  
“Sportacus! It’s me! You have to wake up! Everything you’re seeing is an illusion!” He said loudly, hoping to rouse the elf.

Sportacus only mumbled, his eyes opening for a moment.

“All green…” Robbie noted once he got a look.  
He cursed under his breath.  
“Not good, not good.” He muttered as his thoughts raced through his memories of magic spells and curses. “Fever spells don’t have a specific cure, so I can’t cast a spell. It needs to be broken by _him_ , but how – “  
He stopped, then looked at Sportacus.  
The hero was still twitching and mumbling.  
“It’s a long shot.” Admitted Robbie. “But we’re running out of options.”  
Robbie, gently, leaned over and laid against Sportacus’s chest. The gemstone on his hilt glowed brighter and brighter, a purple light reflecting against Sportacus’s tunic. The light then suddenly burst forth and into Sportacus, his body shimmering purple for a moment.  
“A little of my magic might help you. Hopefully it’ll give you the strength to wake up.” Robbie said as he looked up.  
Sportacus’s face still looked strained.  
Robbie sighed worriedly.

“Please, please wake up. I…I won’t forgive myself if you don’t.” He admitted quietly.

\--

The light from the surface was fading fast, growing into nothing more than twinkles atop the skin of the water.

Despite the odds, Sportacus was still fighting, yet the crystal still failed to budge.  
His lungs ached, and he could feel the strain in his throat and face.  
Every urge within him wanted to release the last gulp of air he’d managed to snag before sinking, but he couldn’t let go.  
His vision was growing hazy, darkness encroaching upon the edges of his gaze.  
His mind, dulling out, slowly switched from survival to acceptance.  
And all at once, Sportacus felt at ease, the water warm and comforting.  
He knew this trick, he remembered it from his survival training. This was something the mind would do to hamper the horror of oncoming death.  
But he didn’t care.  
As his mind grew tired and his body fatigued, Sportacus could feel himself give up, even as his inner voice begged him to keep fighting.  
He was just too tired.  
“ _It won’t be so bad. It’s like a long nap. I’m so tired, a nap might be nice…_ ” Sportacus thought to himself woozily as the light of the surface faded dimmer and dimmer.

Too tired, he let his eyelids fall closed, and he released his last lungful of air. The burning in his lungs was the last painful sensation he felt as he sank.

…

Behind his eyelids, he could faintly see a flash of light.  
Straining, he opened his eyes, and the pink water had turned purple.  
And through the water something flew to him.  
An astral projection, one of a raven, was flying through the water, its glowing body of light semi-translucent and disrupting the currents as it dove.  
Admittedly, Sportacus might’ve reacted more expressively had it not been for his rapidly depleting oxygen and the state of drowning setting in. However, because of it, he could only passively observe and understand as the raven reached him.  
It wrapped its talons around his crystalline restraints and squeezed, the crystal instantly shattering into a million pieces which sunk to the bottom.  
Despite his arms and legs now being free, the lack of energy Sportacus had kept him from instantly darting up to the surface. He instead continued to sink, albeit his arms and legs now drifting widely.  
The raven seemed to understand this, as it wrapped itself around him, bringing him into an almost hug with its wings.  
The raven flew upwards, its talons now clutching Sportacus’s shoulders. They rushed upwards towards the surface, the bubbles of air blowing past them. Sportacus could barely keep his eyes open as the raven flew.  
Even with his exhaustion, however, he could see that the raven was seemingly changing the closer they drew to the water’s surface. Astral feathers fell away and soon its wings were bare, their shape slowly morphing and thinning in some areas, thickening in others. The talons bored into his shoulders gradually lost their sharpness, feeling less like poking and more like gripping. The plumage of the raven’s main body smoothed out, sharp feathers resembling ribbons and cloth more and more.

The two emerged in a spectacular burst of purplish-pink water and foam.

Sportacus sailed up for just a moment before he felt himself unceremoniously collide with solid ground. His mind was spinning, and his lungs felt thick. He began to violently cough, him spitting up mouthfuls of swallowed water with every few coughs.  
He felt a hand against his back clapping it firmly, urging more water to evacuate his lungs.  
Said hand was joined by another, and he was gently urged onto his back. Someone, their appearance too fuzzy at the moment, began to firmly press their palms into his chest.  
Sportacus spat up more and more water, almost too much water, before he finally slapped against the ground in exhaustion, his breathing more like gasps.  
The hands moved up and cradled his head. He felt himself be lifted onto the stranger’s lap.  
He saw the robes were purple.  
Wearily he looked up.  
The stranger’s face was blurred and fuzzy as he stared, and no matter how much he squinted he couldn’t discern any greater detail.  
However, he could see the stranger’s hair: black as a raven’s and blowing softly in the breeze.  
Faintly, he could see their eyes: gray like smoke.  
He kept blinking as he stared still.

Finally, details were filling in, like a face with defined cheekbones.  
The stranger’s eyes looked tired, but the gaze was warm.  
And finally, the stranger was a man.

He felt a hand brush against his cheek, and he didn’t object to it.  
Actually, it felt quite nice.  
He wanted to lean into it, but his body felt like gelatin.  
He could, however, feel the heat that rose in his cheeks.  
The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it: the man who held him was _gorgeous_.  
But who was he?

Before he could ask, a voice echoed above the two, with the stranger looking up in alarm.  
“ _Sportacus! Sportacus, wake up!_ ”  
The sky, a pale gray, filled with a white light as he heard the voice shout louder.  
“ _Sportacus! Please! Wake up!_ ”  
He only had time to give one last look to the stranger before the world was swallowed with light.

\--

“Sportacus!”

Sportacus gasped and sputtered, him jolting awake. The first thing he felt was something thick and gooey on his face. Cringing he wiped away the goo from his eyes which, he saw, was a bright green color.  
The second thing he felt was something leaning against his chest. He looked down and, upon being noticed, Robbie sat up straight.  
“Oh thank goodness it worked!” Robbie said in relief. “Are you okay?”  
Sportacus blinked, adjusting to the now non-tired feeling in his body. More he felt stiff from how long he spent in an uncomfortable position, but not the same exhaustion he felt when he was drowning. He took a moment before he finally addressed the weapon.  
“I…I’m okay. I just feel tired. I-I’m still catching up to what’s real or not.” He admitted.  
“But you’re otherwise okay?” asked Robbie worriedly.  
Sportacus looked at himself and chewed on his lip as he thought. He finally nodded.  
“I think so.” He said quietly.  
Robbie sighed.  
“Thank goodness.” He said.

The two fell silent for a bit.

“Uh, so, I guess I should…” Robbie started.  
“Could you possibly free me? These chains are digging into my wrists.” Asked Sportacus.  
“What? O-Oh yeah, hang on.” Robbie said as he hopped over.  
With two swift swings, Robbie slashed through the chains. The broken chains clattered against the wall as Sportacus finally stood. He tugged experimentally at the wrist clasps of the chains.  
“Do you need me to get those?” asked Robbie.  
“No, I’m okay.” Said Sportacus quietly as he rubbed the keyholes of the clasps.  
They briefly shone a bright blue before the two collapsed onto the ground, Sportacus finally free.  
He picked up Robbie and prepared to sheath him, before he remembered that his sheath was gone.  
“Um, anyways, about earlier…” Robbie started again.  
“Save it for now, Robbie. Did you see where they took my armor?” asked Sportacus.  
“W-Well yes, but don’t you want to talk? I-I expected you to be pretty upset.” Said Robbie nervously.  
Sportacus looked at the weapon wearily, his expression eerily still. If he could, Robbie would’ve shrunk into himself.  
“I don’t have time to be upset or think much about that at all. We need to find Percival, stop him, and save Prince Stingy. Once and when we get all that done, we’ll talk. Okay?” He said coolly.  
Robbie gulped.  
“R-Right. Sounds good.”  
“Now where could he have gone?” asked Sportacus.  
“Oh, he said something about a ship! A trading ship?” said Robbie.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“A new one?” He asked.  
“I think so. You think - ?”  
“The prince will be on it.” Sportacus said in affirmation. “We need to hurry.”

Sportacus swung Robbie at the locked door which split in two and fell to the floor. The two guards protecting their cell turned and pointed their weapons, their lips still frozen in a grin. Sportacus quickly dispatched the two, punching them out with his bare fists.  
“I’ll point out the way to the storage room. If we hurry, or maybe if we find Loftskip, we should reach them before they depart.” Robbie said quickly.  
Sportacus nodded and sprinted down the hallway Robbie pointed towards, him drawing his sword as more guards began to flood the dungeon.

\--

“The royal advisor Percival Pries has now boarded.” Announced a guard cheerily.

Prince Stingy gave no care as he continued to count his coins feverishly. The cold metal clinked in his hands rhythmically as the door opened and the advisor entered.  
“Good morning, your highness. Are you ready for the maiden voyage of _The Wyvern_?” asked Percival.  
Prince Stingy only nodded and grunted.  
“Good, very good. I’ll let the captain know that we’re ready to depart. We’ll have tea and cakes within the hour.” Said Percival as he felt for something in his pocket.  
As he partially exited the cabin, he pulled out a small vial of a silvery liquid. He examined it momentarily before he stuffed it back in his pocket.  
“Captain! Raise the anchor! We’re ready to sail!”

The bell at the dock rang noisily and the attending townsfolk cheered as the lead lines were pulled away, the sails dropped, and the anchor raised. Slowly the trade ship lurched out of the docking area and into the harbor, its flag waving proudly in the early morning breeze.

Away on a hill, Sportacus pulled back on Loftskip’s reigns, his brow furrowed deeply.  
“They’re leaving! We’re too late!” gaped Robbie.  
“Not too late. We can catch them still. Come on.” Said Sportacus as he snapped the mare’s reigns.  
Loftskip bolted down the hill and past the adjacent docks, down from the dirt road to wooden pier. People with manic grins ducked and jumped away as the mare sprinted down the dock, her hooves clapping against the wood.  
Meanwhile, Sportacus searched the adjoining docks, his eyes scanning until he spotted a small schooner tied to a nearby post.  
He steered Loftskip sharply to the right as he barreled down the dock. Pulling back on her reigns, he leapt off the horse with a front flip and leapt onto the boat.  
The grinning civilian only had a moment to react before he was hoisted up by Sportacus.  
“Sorry! I need to borrow your boat!” He said, before he chucked the man safely onto the dock.  
With the schooner’s captain dispatched, Sportacus cut the restraining rope and steered the ship’s sails towards the departing trade ship. The wind billowed the sails fatly and the schooner took off like a rocket. The wave’s crests bashed and foamed against the boat’s bow as they skipped across the water and after the ship.

“Perhaps you’d like your snack early, my prince? I have your favorite: chocolate-strawberry mud cake with a fondant pig. We even have black tea imported from the east.” Offered Percival in a friendly voice as he poured the prince a cup.  
“Hmm, fine, sure.” Responded the prince distractedly.  
Percival poured the prince a full cup of the dark, steaming liquid and sliced a thin slice of cake as well. He paused for a moment to, silently, uncork the vial he hid in his pocket. Carefully, he poured the scentless silver liquid into the tea which, upon being stirred, vanished instantly into the liquid. He smiled and nodded with a sigh.  
“Here we are, your highness. Your royal morning treat.” He said as he carried the tray. “I hope it’s as sweet as you wish it to be.”

Sportacus steered the ship to port as he rammed the side of the schooner against the trade ship. He glanced up as the soldiers on the ship frantically scrambled for their swords and spears, grins plastered on their faces.  
Pulling Robbie, Sportacus leapt up and grabbed a loose rope with one hand. He shimmied up the sail rope until he was near the top of the mast. He swung around as a guard fired arrows at him, just narrowly avoiding the swift projectiles. He heard the telltale _thud_ of at least three imbedding themselves in the mast.  
Posting himself against the mast by pressing his feet into the wood, Sportacus clutched the rope and swung himself around in a wide loop. As soon as the trade ship’s deck was in sight, he let go and sailed through the air. He crashed loudly into the middle of the deck, tucking into a roll as he did, and stood just in time to come face to face with three guards with swords.  
The three guards swung wildly and haphazardly. Sportacus lifted Robbie to block, and the four blades crashed loudly against each other. Sportacus grunted and struggled as the guards attempted to bore their blades down upon his head. With a yell, he overpowered the three enough to allow him a swift kick towards one guard, which knocked the other two down like dominoes.  
He turned towards the cabin only to see eight guards blocking his path.  
“Sportacus! Lift me up!” Robbie yelled.  
Sportacus only looked at his sword in confusion for a moment before he lifted his sword in front of his face, the gemstone facing the guards.  
“ _Levitate!_ ” shouted Robbie, the gemstone glowing purple.  
A purple blast shot from the gemstone and rocketed across the deck. It slammed into the eight guards who, as the purple light overtook their bodies, gently floated up and hovered several feet above the ship.  
Sportacus gave Robbie a quick look before he bolted across the ship and slammed himself into the cabin’s door, breaking it off its hinges.

Percival and Prince Stingy’s attentions snapped to the broken door, with Percival’s face displaying a cold anger.  
“You! You freed yourself??” He said angrily.  
Sportacus stood and spotted the tea cup in the prince’s hands.  
“Prince Stingy! I beg you, don’t drink that!” said Sportacus.  
“Don’t listen to that rebel rouser!” stated Percival. “I’m your royal advisor. I’m your most trusted compatriot, correct? I would never steer you wrong.”  
“Bull _crap_.” Spat Robbie.  
“You are my advisor.” Said Prince Stingy almost robotically as he lifted the teacup to his lips.  
Sportacus’s face paled as he looked desperately around the cabin. Spotting a small paperweight, he grabbed it and chucked it at the teacup.  
It hit the teacup in its dead center, the china shattering into pieces and spilling hot liquid across the prince’s chair arm. The liquid sizzled and crackled as soon as it hit the upholstery, the fabric melting into a pungent mess as the tea ate through the furniture.  
Percival’s eyes widened, and he glared angrily at Sportacus.  
“Look what you’ve done, you pointed ear fool!” He spat.  
“I saved the prince, that’s what I did! Now yield, Percival, or I’ll be forced to fight you!” said Sportacus sternly.  
“As if you could fight me.” Percival said with a sneer. “You forget who has the magic, don’t you?”  
He snapped his fingers, and the prince’s eyes were overcome by a green glow once more.  
“Prince Stingy, that elf wants to steal your treasures.” Percival said.  
Prince Stingy snarled.  
“That treasure is _MINE_!” He roared as he leapt from his chair, his hands aimed for Sportacus’s neck.

Sportacus gasped and nearly dropped Robbie as his hands went up to push the child away. Prince Stingy shouted and shrieked as his hands clawed and reached for Sportacus’s face and neck.  
“You coward! You seriously forced a _child_ to fight for you?!” Robbie shouted.  
“Don’t act morally superior to me, mage.” Growled Percival as he snapped his fingers once more, his hand erupting with green magic.  
Sportacus’s gaze darted from Percival back to the prince, who still reached desperately for Sportacus’s eyes.  
His attention snapped down to the medallion the prince wore, the one he’d seen Percival enchant earlier, alarm bells ringing in his head.  
Making a snap decision, Sportacus grabbed at the prince’s medallion and, with one swift tug, he snapped the golden chain that held it.  
Near instantly, he regretted it, as the green magic pulsated into his arm and the rest of his body.  
He could feel a hunger build in his heart and stomach, one that seemed near impossible to satisfy and drove out all other thoughts in his brain.  
The golden treasures scattered throughout the room sparkled much more brightly.  
They _called_ for him, begged him to take them with him.  
Sportacus sank into the feeling for a moment, the desire and drive forcing his hand to reach for the golden trinkets.  
Before he could, however, he shook his head.  
“No more!” He shouted as he smashed the medallion into the floor, the pendant instantly falling into a pasty mash.

“You _idiot_!” growled Percival as the clarity returned to Stingy’s eyes.  
“W-What? Where am I?” he asked blearily as he looked about.  
The prince gasped as his vision cleared and he spotted his advisor with hands glowing green.  
“Percival! What are you doing?? Is…Is that _magic_?!” He asked confusedly.  
“Prince Stingy! Don’t listen to that man! He cursed you with a terrible spell and he’s thrown the entire kingdom under another curse!” Sportacus pleaded.  
“Don’t you dare listen to that _scum_!” spat Percival. “Who do you trust more: this stranger, or your advisor?”  
“We’re telling the truth!” begged Robbie.  
Prince Stingy blinked, and his brow furrowed. He looked at Percival and shook his head.  
“Get out of my sight, _murderer_.” He hissed.  
Percival’s eyes widened in shock.  
“What…how…you’re bluffing.” He said with a forced calm.  
Prince Stingy gritted his teeth.  
“I remember now, I was pulling the pieces together when you dared to lay a hand on me. You monster, _what_ did you do to my mom?! You killed her, didn’t you?!” Prince Stingy shouted, his eyes watering.  
Percival’s eyes darted back and forth between Sportacus and the prince, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.  
  
Without a word, he clenched his fist at Prince Stingy, and the prince gasped as he was suddenly thrown against the ceiling, his back rattling the ceiling boards.

Sportacus gasped and reached for Robbie. He prepared to charge after Percival until the man held a hand out, stopping him.  
“Now, now Sportacus. You wouldn’t dare take another step, would you? Because if you do, I will _crush_ the dear prince into the ceiling.” He growled.  
Sportacus’s face grayed.  
“You’re truly sick, Percival. Put the prince down now!” He said.  
“You have no leverage, and I have the upper hand! I could snap my fingers now and snap you in half, but I’m a nice man, Sportacus. I’m letting you make the right choice by _not_ getting any closer and letting me get my plan back in order.” Percival said coolly.  
“What plan??” gasped Prince Stingy.  
“Your family is obsolete, your highness. It’s time for a better, more stable, less _corruptible_ order to take on this kingdom, and my superior is just the right pick for the job. Now stay quiet, and I’ll let you die quietly.” Percival said darkly.  
“You did kill her! You _monster_!” sobbed the prince.  
“Of course I did, you little brat. I can’t give this kingdom up if she’s still alive. Stop your blubbering; you’ll join her in just a minute.” Percival growled.  
Sportacus stared in horror, unable to make another move. The advisor was listening; one step too much and he’d pulp the prince against the ceiling.  
“Sportacus, throw me.” Robbie whispered.  
Sportacus’s eyebrows raised as he lifted his sword to his ear.  
“Aim me at his brooch. Just do it!” Robbie hissed.  
Sportacus looked at the brooch and swallowed thickly.  
“Are you sure?” He whispered back.  
“Do it!” snapped Robbie.  
With a nod, Sportacus reeled back and chucked Robbie, spinning through the air, straight at Percival’s neck.

The advisor didn’t have a moment to react before the blade pierced his brooch, shattering the gem and breaking the silver crow in half. A chime-like sound rang from the brooch and a shockwave of green magic erupted forward, releasing Prince Stingy from the ceiling and sending Sportacus tumbling back.

“NO!” shouted Percival as he grasped at his broken… _oozing_ brooch. “What have you _done_?!”  
Sportacus groaned and lifted himself up. He first spotted the prince, who seemed dazed but not worse for wear. The prince sat up and scurried over the Sportacus.  
“Are you okay, your highness?” asked Sportacus.  
“I’ll be fine.” Answered Prince Stingy quickly.  
Sportacus’s next words were stopped when the disgustingly sticky sounds of something slimy lurching filled the cabin.  
He looked towards the noise, and the blood left his face.  
Percival stood still, stalk still, his expression frozen in horror, his eyes fixed upon the black mass growing from where his brooch once sat. The ooze pulsated and hissed, its sticky tendrils reaching and grasping at any free space on Percival’s neck.  
“W-What are you doing?! I’m one of your servants! I faithfully served you! I pledged _my soul_ to you!” shrieked Percival in horror.  
The ooze seemed uncaring as it stretched up Percival’s neck and down his chest. The ooze stretched and sizzled against his robes, fat bubbles bursting on its oily surface. The tendrils ghosted and poked towards Percival’s mouth, causing the miserable advisor to shudder in horror.  
Sportacus, as quickly as he could, pulled the horrified prince against his chest, shielding his eyes.  
“You…You promised me…you promised me _power_ …” Percival pleaded weakly. “I-I can salvage this! You’ll still get this kingdom! P-Please! Please, give me another chance! Please, I beg – “Percival pleaded, before his pleas were abruptly silenced by the ooze slinking into his mouth, his words replaced by thick choking noises and strained gasps.  
Sportacus stared, frozen with his own terror, as the Darkness’s ooze continued to reach and grow across the advisor’s shoulders and down his arms, the growth on his chest inching along as well. He finally forced himself to avert his gaze when the Darkness’s tendrils teased at Percival’s nostrils and eyes.

He only opened his eyes again once he heard the sound of boots against wood.  
“Prince Stingy! Your highness, are you okay?” asked the now decidedly not smiling guards.  
Sportacus stared at them in shock until a gurgling noise drew everyone’s attention away.  
“Oh gods…” gasped the guard once his eyes fell upon the sight.  
The whole group stared in horror as the being who was once Percival took its first, lurching step forward, its body staggering under the weight of the growth that now surrounded its entire upper torso. The ooze seethed, its skin glistening and shining under the lamplight. The oily goo sputtered, and tar bubbles popped still along its surface. A stretching, snapping, and squishing sound echoed through the dead silent room as a slit drew itself along the entire width of Percival’s covered “face”.  
The slit opened wide, and revealed two rows of sharp, thin, bony teeth.  
“P-Prepare yourselves, men!” sputtered the guard as he shakily raised his spear.  
The other guards fearfully raised their weapons.  
“Percival” croaked as it took another step forward, its balance wobbling wildly as fat drops of Darkness splattered onto the floor. Its eyeless face looked about slowly, its neck crackling and bubbling as it craned its head about.  
Its “gaze” fixed upon the guards and, slowly, its maw opened wide, its teeth flaring out.

It uttered a guttural wail, a terrifying mixture, half-man, half- _something else_.

Then, it surged forward.

The guards were near instantly toppled over as the maddened monstrosity barreled past. It slapped their armor-covered chests with its long-fingered, ooze-dripping hands, melting holes in the guards’ pristine armor. It croaked and groaned as it stumbled onto the deck like a drunkard.  
Finally snapping out of his stupor, Sportacus let go of Prince Stingy and jumped onto his feet. He reached over and snatched Robbie off the ground.  
“Protect the prince at all costs!” shouted Sportacus as he ran out onto the deck.  
He held Robbie with both hands as he pointed the blade at “Percival”.  
“Percival”, at the moment, staggered about the deck, its back bent over from the weight of the ooze. Its hand braced itself against the mast, the ooze slowly eating away at the wood.  
“Percival! Stand down, and don’t move another inch!” Sportacus yelled.  
“Percival” paused, its gaze snapping a full 180 to stare at Sportacus. It croaked and hissed before it let go of the mast. It started lurching towards Sportacus until, rather suddenly, a particularly strong wave rocked the boat and sent the monstrosity tumbling sideways.  
Its body crashing against the guard railing, the wooden railing broke and “Percival” plummeted down into the gray waters of the bay.  
Sportacus rushed to the side and peered over the edge, his eyes searching the water. The white caps splashed against the ship’s edge, the waves obscuring any sign of the corrupted advisor.  
“Oh gods, look! That thing’s ooze is _spreading_!” shouted one guard as he pointed over the edge.  
Sportacus looked towards where the guard pointed, and his pupils shrunk.  
Indeed, right around where “Percival” had plummeted, a black pool began to spread and grow in the bay’s waters.  
“That toxic goo could infect the entire waterway! It’d kill anything in sight!” gasped another guard in horror.  
Sportacus frowned and looked back down at the growing Darkness. Without a word, he sheathed Robbie and approached the edge of the ship.

Taking a deep breath, he leapt off and dove straight into the water.

The freezing water was like a harsh slap to the face as Sportacus finally forced himself to look around. The gray water was murky, with barely a ray of light penetrating the dark waters.  
Despite this, an inky trail was clearly visible, and it led to a mass of squirming Darkness that slowly drifted deeper down.  
Sportacus swam deeper as he chased after the corrupted advisor. As he approached, however, he felt himself slow.  
From where he was, he saw “Percival” struggle and writhe. The Darkness’s tendrils stretched and reached aimlessly through the open water, its body further contorting. It uttered a thin shriek and a guttural groan as it stretched and spread itself further through the water, its teeth spreading upwards like a fin across its back.  
Sportacus stopped, and a feeling he didn’t expect to feel filled his heart.  
Pity.  
“ _This…is horrible._ ” He thought as he shook his head.  
The pathetic creature squirmed and flailed as Sportacus floated.  
“ _It doesn’t matter what he’s done, no one deserves such a terrible fate._ ” Sportacus thought as he drew Robbie.

With his sword in front of his face, Sportacus closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the flat blade. He exhaled a stream of bubbles as he cleared his mind.

The golden light flowed through him once more, illuminating his hair and his eyes as he opened them. His gaze fell upon the struggling “Percival”, a frown crossing his face.  
His attention turned to Robbie. The golden light flowed and filled the sword, his gemstone glowing a bright gold with the powerful magic.  
Sportacus pointed the blade’s tip towards the monstrosity.  
“ _I free you of your suffering, you foul, pitiful beast._ ” He said quietly.  
And with those words, a beam of golden, searing light burst forth and struck “Percival” straight in the chest.  
The beast howled and shrieked as the light erupted through its body, consuming the Darkness in a rapidly expanding wave of light, the whole bay glowing a bright golden light.

And as soon as it started, the light vanished with barely a sound.  
With it, “Percival” was too gone, leaving not even a skeleton behind.

The light left Sportacus’s body and, having spoken, he found himself suddenly needing oxygen, but his body too tired to swim.  
As his vision blurred, he heard three heavy things fall into the water. Several hands grasped at his armor and he was lifted upwards.  
He surfaced, and Sportacus spat out a mouthful of ocean water.  
“He’s alive! The monster is gone! Get the ship’s doctor right away!” called one of the guards holding him.  
The soldiers’ shouts became increasingly muffled as Sportacus fell unconscious, his weariness finally winning out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't have a fic without a fever dream, right? They're just too fun to write. Also rip in pepperoni Percival, no one will miss you.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. The Confession

The giant, double doors swung open as Sportacus was led into the expansive throne room. The room, like the rest of the kingdom’s architecture was built of cold stone and little natural lighting. Torches flickered against the pillars and shone against the soldiers’ helmets and armor. At the far end of the room sat a throne cast of gold with intricate detailing and shimmering gemstones imbedded sporadically throughout the patterns.

Sportacus walked with two guards by his sides, his gaze flitting occasionally to the guards standing attention beneath each of the pillars.  
He sighed. Never did he think he’d feel so happy to _not_ see people smiling, but at the same time, the reason for the lack of smiles still left him feeling heavy.  
The trio walked down the red carpeting until they reached the steps to the throne. On the throne sat Prince Stingy, his crown fixed upon his head once again and his hair neatly combed.  
The two guards fell to one knee and bowed lowly. Sportacus gave a low bow from a standing position instead.  
“At ease.” Said the prince.  
The two guards stood back up and Sportacus lifted his head.  
Prince Stingy looked many times his age as he sighed and threaded his fingers together.  
“I must thank you, Sportacus, for saving not just my life, but the lives of everyone in my kingdom. You’ve truly done us a great service by exposing Percival’s treachery, and we’ll be forever thankful.” He said.  
“It was no trouble, your highness.” Sportacus said with a short bow. “But, if I may ask, are you okay? I imagine this was a lot to take in.”  
Prince Stingy breathed audibly through his nose as he sighed.  
“I’ll…be fine. You’re right, this is a lot to take in. _Too_ much, to be honest.” He admitted quietly. “My family is gone and the one person I could depend on to assist me in running the kingdom almost overthrew everything and everyone I knew and loved.”  
He looked at Sportacus with a weary look.  
“If it weren’t for the fact that I’m needed to run the kingdom, I’d take some time away from here. Perhaps vacation in the Northern Isles for a time. They have some beautiful treasures up there that I admire.” He said, his voice taking on a wistful air for a moment.  
“I’d be more than happy to assist you in the rebuilding of your kingdom, your highness.”  
“You’re too generous, Sportacus.” Prince Stingy said. “As much as I’d appreciate the help, you’re on a quest of your own, right? It’s up to you to destroy The Darkness once and for all.”  
Sportacus nodded.

“Ah! Right. And that’s what I was getting to. Your reward, though I don’t believe it’s much a gift, considering it _is_ yours.” Prince Stingy said as he clapped his hands.  
From a side door, an attendant in flowing yellow robes entered carrying something on a silk pillow. She strode up to the prince’s throne and dipped down into a bow as she held the pillow above her. Prince Stingy nodded and took the thin, rusted metal ring from the pillow. He twirled it between his fingers.  
“My mother told me that out of all our great wealth, this piece of armor was the greatest and most valuable of it all. I never understood it, but now I do. This should be the Blessed Circlet, though it doesn’t seem so grand right now.” He said as he stood from his throne.  
Sportacus bent down onto one knee and dipped his head low.  
Prince Stingy walked up and, gently, placed the rusted circlet onto Sportacus’s head.  
As it rested, Sportacus waited and, after a moment, the circlet erupted with golden light. The occupants of the throne room staggered back and shielded their eyes as the hum reverberated through the darkened halls, illuminating the room with more light than it’d seen in its entire lifetime.  
The light soon faded, and Prince Stingy uncovered his eyes. He gaped.  
“Oh my goodness.” He said. “It _is_ beautiful.”  
Much like the other two pieces, the circlet had transformed from its original, drab state into something of artistic beauty. Shaped like a victor’s wreath, the circlet was built of golden leaf that wove together to create the circumference of the circlet, it shining amongst Sportacus’s already blonde locks. At the very front of the circlet sat a faceted sapphire with shimmered in the torchlight, cut into a diamond shape.  
The sapphire let off a single twinkle before the circlet settled.  
Sportacus pulled off the circlet to gaze at it himself. Robbie uttered a low whistle.  
“Now _that_ is a circlet. Lucky dog.” He muttered.  
Sportacus gave a quiet chuckle before he set the circlet atop his head.

“Again, I know that isn’t much of a reward given that you should’ve received it when you first arrived, but I hope it suffices for now. I imagine given your traveling that carrying treasures would be too burdensome.” Prince Stingy said as he returned to his throne.  
“Yes, I’m not sure my mare would appreciate it.” Sportacus said with a small smile.  
“Perhaps once the world is safe you could return.” Prince Stingy said. “I’m certain we’ll have a proper gift ready for you by then.”  
“Thank you, your highness.” Sportacus said with another bow.  
Prince Stingy sighed.  
“But now? Will you stay one more night? Perhaps as part of our thanks?” He asked.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“I’m afraid I can’t. We must make our way to Solstice Peak as soon as possible. There’s no telling how much the Darkness has grown by now.” He said.  
Prince Stingy nodded.  
“Then let me give our thanks by at least marking the fastest route to Solstice Peak.” Said Prince Stingy as he gestured for Sportacus’s map.  
With a feather pen fetched by a servant, Prince Stingy marked the map carefully before adding his (rather large) signature to it.  
“That will shave a day’s journey off your trip. Be wary, however, as there’s notable bandit activity out that direction.” Prince Stingy said.  
“Thank you.” Said Sportacus. “And what will you do once I leave?”  
“Simple. The kingdom needs repair. Everything and everyone are in disarray and I must restore order. Once that is settled, I’ll need to address the inequality issue. Percival’s sentiments didn’t come from nowhere, so some investigation is needed.” Prince Stingy answered.

He paused, his expression softening.

“Hopefully it’ll make my mother proud.” He said.  
“I’m certain she’s proud of you already, your highness.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
Prince Stingy smiled back.  
“Thank you, Sportacus. I wish you all the best with your journey. My guards will escort you to the road towards Solstice Peak and will guard you until the kingdom’s boundaries. That should hopefully ward off any attacks or ambushes along the route.” He said.  
Sportacus gave a short bow and looked thankfully at the prince before he turned and exited the throne room with the original two guards.  
Prince Stingy sighed and sat back.  
“Now, where to start. I should address the people and assuage their fears…” He said thoughtfully.  
“Um, your highness? You have a message.” Said a royal messenger.  
“Oh what now?” Prince Stingy groaned. “Can’t it wait?”  
“I don’t believe so, sir. It’s from Lord Meanswell.”

Prince Stingy stopped, his eyes widening.

“What does it say?” He asked.  
The messenger unrolled the scroll.  
“It requests the presence of both you and your armies, sir. It seems they are planning a defensive position against the growing Darkness.” He said.  
Prince Stingy bit his lip. Carding his hands together, he nodded.  
“Bring me one of the royal messenger pigeons this instant. I must send a letter to Lord Meanswell alerting him of our attendance. Hopefully if we make haste we can reach the kingdom in less than a week.” He said as he got up from his throne and snapped his fingers.  
A royal captain saluted.  
“Prepare your troops, captain. We depart within the hour.”  
“A-All of the troops, sir?”  
“ _All_ of them. If the Meanswells need _my_ armies, we will bring _all_ of my armies.” Said Prince Stingy as he grabbed the piece of paper and began to write.

\--

The gates swung open and, from the side, Sportacus rode out upon Loftskip, who cantered at a steady pace along the sandy, coastal road. Flanking her on each side rode soldiers from the Kingdom of Spoilero, dressed to the letter in dark-colored armor with yellow feather plumes fluttering on the top of their helmets. Each were armed with swords and spears, with two soldiers riding ahead with their spears ready to scout for any hidden bandits or ambushers lurking about the less traveled road.

The ocean crashed and lapped against the sandy shores. The horses kicked up rocks and wet sand as they trotted and cantered along steadily, the reeds whistling in the salty wind. The clouds drifted lazily across the horizon, pale gray in color.  
It was all rather beautiful, but the discomfort was still present in the air between Sportacus and Robbie.  
At least, it was on Robbie’s end.  
He was still thinking about the words needing to be said.  
With Percival handled, he could finally talk to Sportacus, but how do you start?  
His story wasn’t exactly an easy one to tell.  
He cleared his throat.  
“Hey, Sportacus,” He started. “uh, you think you’re ready to talk? I mean, are you ready for _me_ to talk? I know we still need to do that.”  
Sportacus’s gaze shifted for a moment from the horizon.  
“So, do you think _now_ might be a good time?”  
The elf looked down at the sword thoughtfully.  
After a moment, he shook his head.  
“I think it’s best to wait until we camp tonight, don’t you?” He said quietly.  
Robbie felt a sickness settle in him.  
“Right, yeah, that makes more sense. We’ll wait until then.”

Quiet. Only the sound of the horses’ hooves and their gear jingling was created by the small party of warriors and knights.  
A seagull called overhead, the wind forcing it to glide lower to the water.  
A loon bobbed about in the ocean, which caused Robbie to chuckle.  
“Look at that loon. Such a silly bird.” He noted as he looked up to Sportacus.  
Sportacus only gave a weak smile in return.  
Robbie felt the stone in his stomach. Yeah, that was weak, and he knew it before he said it.  
He couldn’t help it, he just wanted to break up the heavy awkward that would stay until the two camped in the evening. And with the morning sun still rising, that would be a very, _very_ long ride until then.

Down the road the group rode, the kingdom fading into the distance slowly but surely. Thin, pale green grass shrunk and thickened into a carpet of moist moss that covered edged, dark-colored rock. A pungent smell filled the air, one like rotten eggs. Steam furled from various points in the ground, with some spurting up bubbly plumes of scalding water.  
As the road transitioned to gravel, the soldiers pulled to a stop.  
Sportacus, seeing this, also pulled to a stop.  
“This is where the kingdom’s boundary ends. I’m afraid we can follow you no longer. Our kingdom requires us to restore order.” Stated the leader, his plume flaring.  
Sportacus nodded with a thankful smile.  
“Thank you, sir. Safe travels back to the kingdom.” He said.  
The soldier nodded, and, with a gesture and a crack of the reigns, the group of soldiers rode off back the other way.  
Sportacus watched until the guards had disappeared over the hills before he snapped Loftskip’s reigns and rode onwards.

While the guards didn’t provide a bastion of conversation and interesting verbal play, their presence was something Robbie missed. It, at the least, gave him a distraction during the arduously long journey of the day.  
The hours passed, and Robbie continued to think, mostly about how to best convey the rather girthy amount of information and stories to his wielder while not completely sinking any chance of them being…friends afterwards.  
Because, really, any advocate would probably look at the source of his current condition and give up. At least that’s what Robbie felt.  
It left him far less excited and dreading far more the inevitable sit-down with Sportacus that the setting sun would bring.

Hours went by, long, agonizing hours. The sun held itself up in the sky stubbornly as Loftskip continued to trek through the smelly, rock-covered fields while silence held. It grated against Robbie and made him want to scream.  
Finally, blessedly, the sun started to dip, the light fading. Blue turned to orange to dark blue. And, finally, Sportacus pulled Loftskip to a stop.  
He led her over to a flat area mostly free of rocks. After tying her safely, he unpacked his bed roll and cooking gear. The campfire went up quickly and the fire lit without issue. The orange flames licked at the sulfurous air and crackled.  
And with that, Sportacus sat himself down and planted Robbie in the dirt. He took off his circlet and spun it in his hands as he waited, the golden twinkling in the firelight.  
Robbie paused and watched Sportacus. The elf didn’t seem willing to speak first.  
He cleared his throat.  
“So, uh, you think you’re ready now?”  
Sportacus’s gaze flitted to him, and immediately Robbie regretted how he started.  
“Uh, I mean…” He said uneasily.  
Sportacus’s gaze drifted back down to his circlet.  
“…I’m sorry.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus sighed and closed his eyes.  
“So, was Percival lying? Did you…you know…” He said, his throat growing thick.  
“…He wasn’t.” Robbie admitted with a soft voice.  
He could see Sportacus shiver, which made his stomach’s pit grow.  
“You were a dark magic mage? Is that it? You…You used dark magic on people? On Moss Fell?” asked Sportacus quietly, before he paused.  
“No, and yes.” Said Robbie in an even softer voice. “I did.”

He could see Sportacus take a ragged breath.

“Sportacus…” Robbie started.  
“ _Why_.” Sportacus said, his gaze snapping to him suddenly. “ _Why_ , and _when_ , and _what_. And… _how could you_?”  
The earlier point when Robbie wanted to sink into himself? The moment he said would never be beaten? It was, in that moment, officially beaten.  
“I…” He started.  
Sportacus’s pupils shrunk, and his expression suddenly turned to guilt.  
“I mean,” He started. “I d-didn’t mean how could you, I…I don’t even know _what_ happened to make you use dark magic. I’m sorry.”  
“No, you’re right. I…I ask myself that when I do think about it.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus closed his eyes and nodded slowly.  
“Start from the beginning.”  
“R-Right…the beginning…” Robbie said thoughtfully as he cleared his throat again. “Well, I suppose I should start with one surprise at a time. I, uh, should clarify that I’m…well I imagine I’m quite a bit older than you.”  
Sportacus looked over and quirked an eyebrow.  
“How much? You don’t sound much older.”  
“Ageless imprisonment does that to you.” Robbie said with a slight, sad chuckle. “I think…well not to startle you, but I think I’m around 500 years now.”  
“ _500 –_ “Sportacus started in shock.  
“Give or take a few, I lost count a long time ago.” Robbie admitted morosely. “There’s a lot to remember with that long of a life, you could imagine. A lot gets forgotten.”  
Sportacus blinked as he processed that information.  
“I…wow.” He said. “And how much _in_ the sword…?”  
“Most.” Robbie said quietly.  
“Oh.”  
“It wasn’t supposed to be this long.” Robbie added near silently.  
“Robbie, please,” Sportacus said. “What happened?”  
“You wanted from the beginning, remember? I’m getting there.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded and sat with his legs crossed.  
Robbie paused.  
“I was sent away from home when I was about seven. My cousin, Glanni, and I both showed magical prowess at a pretty young age. I remember how odd it was considered for two humans to be magically inclined, but there we were. As soon as my parents noticed, they sent us to be educated at the Mage’s Academy in Solstice Peak, the premier magic school in the country. I never did return home again after that.”

“Our lives at the school were strict and regimented: get up at six in the morning to complete chores and breakfast. General studies were next from eight to eleven. A quick lunch, then the entire rest of the day was reserved to magic studies and practice. Rinse and repeat each day. I managed fine, but my cousin…didn’t. He never gelled well with the regimented lifestyle and I remember how much he tormented our teachers. Shame, he was talented at magic.”  
“Did he stay?” asked Sportacus.  
“Goodness, no.” Robbie said. “I remember his last day too…”

\--

_“Wait, Glanni, hold up. Just wait a moment, we can fix this! You don’t have to run!”  
“Robin, cousin, I blew up the arcane plants’ lab. The whole southern tower is ablaze with magical fire. I’m pretty sure even a teacher’s pet like _ you _couldn’t salvage this one.”  
“You have to let me try though! Don’t leave! I-If you leave, I’ll…”_

_His cousin stopped, and, with a sympathetic smile, he hugged his cousin._

_“I can’t be alone, Glanni.” Robbie sniffed, his voice muffled by his cousin’s shirt.  
“I know it’ll be hard at first, Robin, but you’re a strong kid. And remember, I’ll be there for you whenever you need me most, even if I’m far away.”  
“But how? You never did master those teleportation spells…”  
“You know me, I’m a dang miracle worker!” Glanni boasted with a laugh. “Point is, you’ll never be alone. I’ll be with you right here.”  
He pointed at Robbie’s heart.  
“No matter what. Okay?”  
Robbie looked at him uneasily. He could hear the rush of footsteps coming up the stairs.  
He sighed.  
“Okay.”_

\--

“I was eleven when he left. I never saw him again after that.” Robbie said softly.  
“Do you ever know what happened to him?” asked Sportacus.  
“I heard a rumor that he joined a bandit group somewhere near the eastern kingdoms and eventually became their leader, but I never saw any proof. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did though.” Robbie said before he sighed.  
“Point was, after my cousin left, I was alone. It’s hard to make friends when all you do is study, so I just pushed myself harder with my studies. I guess I became pretty good at magic during that time, and when I was around my mid-twenties, I graduated.”  
He stopped.  
“Do you know anything about mage classes, Sportacus?”  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“Most people don’t.” said Robbie. “Well most mages start as what are called ‘town mages’. They take residence in a single town and operate as a sort of guardian and magical resource. I was one of those, and my town was – “  
“Moss Fell.” Finished Sportacus.  
Robbie sighed.  
“Back then it was a prosperous little place. Húmi wasn’t lying when he said trade flowed freely back in those days. Of course, a busy trading place brought its own share of…well let’s call them characteristics…”

\--

_Something decidedly round and built of tanned animal skin pelted against his window and uncomfortably rattled the glass panes._

_And with that, Robbie yelped and nearly threw his delicate, oh so delicate potion experiment across the room which, had he, might’ve left not much but a Robbie shaped ash outline across the far wall.  
His hands shaking and his eyes like a startled gopher’s, Robbie gulped and slowly lowered the beaker to its stand. He gave it a wary eye, watching for any alarming shift in colors or smells.  
Once he saw that the potion remained stable, he sighed in relief and snapped his attention to the window.  
He could hear the high-pitched giggles and squeals that pointed to only one set of culprits.  
His face twisted to a scowl as he stormed to his door. He swung it open roughly as he directed his glare to the cluster of children playing in the street. Outside, the town was busy, filled with chatter and the clattering of cart wheels rolling down the road.  
“You little brats! What did I tell you about playing near my house?! I’m working on very delicate experiments here!” He yelled.  
The kids gasped.  
“It’s old man Robbie!” one kid said with a grin.  
“We’d better run, or he’ll turn us into toads!” said another kid with a giggle.  
“I heard that! Call me old again and I _ will _turn you into animals! Livestock maybe!” shouted Robbie as the children ran down the road._

_Grumbling, Robbie slammed his door shut._

\--

“Not much into kids at the time?” asked Sportacus with a small smile.  
“Not exactly.” Sighed Robbie.  
The sword chuckled quietly.  
“You know, at the time, it was all so awful. The noise, the constant bothering, the loud shrieks and cries of every ankle biter in the town’s perimeter…all I wanted to do was work on my magic studies.”  
“It was comforting for you.” Sportacus suggested.  
“More I was socially inept and uncomfortable with attention. Don’t spin this to make me sound pitiable.” Robbie growled.  
“Sorry.” Said Sportacus as he shrunk back.  
Robbie’s apology hung on his lips, but he nonetheless continued.  
“It was awful at the time, it seemed like hell on the mortal plane. I guess five hundred years of imprisonment makes it difficult for me to feel that same, burning irritation and anger I felt back then. Now it sounds simply pathetic. Bothered by noisy townsfolk and children…stupid, _stupid_ Robbie…” He chastised himself.  
Sportacus looked at him sympathetically, his ears drooped.  
“Doesn’t matter how much I hated the noise, it would never result in what I did next to be condoned.” Robbie said softly.

“You see, I used to get books delivered to my house all the time. Magic tomes, ancient scrolls, mystical staves, everything. Some were common magical literature, others…more obscure. I rue the day one particular book fell into my hands.”  


\--

_It was bound in black leather and threaded with gold thread. On the cover, the engraving of a scraggly raven was drawn in shining silver._

_There was no title, the pages were deeply yellowed and crinkly. It must’ve been several hundred years old yet kept in rather fine condition._

_In other words, it was a veritable magic gold mine, and the perfect distraction for Robbie given the rough week he’s had. Getting nearly blown up several times after your potion projects got disturbed by a cracked window or a shout, as well as losing valuable time on your magical research to the pestering of the townsfolk and their need to “converse” made Robbie feel like a little time with a new spell book was warranted._

_He sat down in his favorite chair, a monstrosity of orange fluff, and cracked the book open. A name was written on the first page in black ink.  
“Filonius Craw?” asked Robbie as he flipped the page. “Never heard of him. He must’ve been a skilled mage if he wrote a whole book though.”  
He carefully thumbed through the pages, the ancient lettering and text captivating his gaze and conjuring a smile upon his lips as he skimmed.  
“Oh, this is wonderful! All this ancient writing and…and wow, I’ve never _ seen _magic theory like this!” He grinned.  
He paused as he read over one spell, a spell he soon realized was a summoning spell for a dragon. His thumb grazed the rune and his smile weakened.  
“This rune though. Such odd etching, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He said, alarm bells slowly ringing in his head._

_Something slammed against his door and Robbie nearly chucked the book across the room._

_The giggling he heard outside confirmed his suspicion of the suspect, and he growled angrily._

_“Those darn kids! I’ve told them hundreds of times to_ not _play in my yard! If only I could make them listen for once.” Robbie grumbled as he picked the spellbook off the floor.  
He flipped it open, having lost his page. The first spell he landed upon was almost too perfect. _ Eerily _perfect.  
Its name was simple: The Suggestion Whisper.  
Its description was tempting: this spell will provide temporarily heightened suggestiveness of the target, in other words allowing ease of request. Can be used on multiple targets at once.  
Robbie’s eyes widened. It was almost too good to be true.  
He bit his lip. This magic was foreign, and the memory of the odd rune blared in his mind. Something about this magic felt off, almost forbidden. But the prospect of potentially earning a quiet afternoon was also too tempting._

_He heard more shouts from outside and the clattering of pots and pans. Children squealed, and merchants argued loudly._

_Robbie furrowed his brow and stood up straight, the book in his hands.  
The decision had been made.  
Slamming his door open, he looked out at the townsfolk and, glancing down at his book, he spoke out loud:  
“I summon upon thee the power of Malsterath! Heed my words and listen well! The master beckons you!_ ”

_Instantly, terrifyingly instantly, the people stopped.  
Their expression blanked and, slowly, they turned and looked at Robbie, their gazes empty of drive and energy.  
Robbie panted and stared at the people, a seed of fear growing in his chest at the sudden silence of the town.  
He glanced down at the spellbook, looking for what to do now.  
The book read: give them directions.  
“Directions. O-Okay.” Robbie said as he closed the book. A small grin crossed his face as the drunkenness of power settled.  
“Um, okay! Everyone! I want you all to be nice and quiet today! Be lazy! Do nothing! I don’t know, just something like that.” He said.  
The townsfolk didn’t respond, but instead they all turned away and slowly shuffled about. The children dropped their toys and followed suit.  
Robbie bit back his apprehension and instead felt the joy of the silence.  
“It worked! Yes! Magic study time and nap time, here I come!” He cheered as he laughed.  
He turned and walked back inside his home as he shut the door._

\--

Robbie paused, and a small shudder encompassed him.  
“So, what happened next?” asked Sportacus quietly.  
Robbie swallowed a thick breath.  
“I took a nap after doing some experiments and studying. When I awoke, I expected that I’d find the townsfolk lounging about like I did, just at ease and I could snap them out of my suggestion. Instead, what I found was so many times worse…”

\--

_Robbie panted heavily as he ran through the streets, his eyes wide and pleading._

_He grunted as he attempted to shove one townsfolk, their skin a bright and angry red, out of the hot sun and into the shade. However, their far larger size made this impossible for Robbie.  
Robbie clutched his hair fearfully before he snapped his fingers in the person’s face.  
“Please! Please! Snap out of it! You don’t have to be quiet anymore! Please! Wake up!” He begged.  
The person didn’t respond.  
His heart beating out of his chest, Robbie ran to another person and tried to rouse them, with no such luck. He panted in terror as he spun around, his eyes taking in the sight of hundreds of sunburnt people, all standing like statues in the middle of the street.  
“No…no…damnit…please! Everyone! You can move again! Please!” Robbie pleaded, his fingernails curling into his cheeks.  
Something exploded in the distance. Robbie gaped as he watched flames furl out of someone’s window, no doubt the result of pot left on the fire too long.  
His gaze snapped from person to person, his thoughts imploring someone, _ anyone _, to respond in some manner.  
But no such response was brought.  
His eyes watered, and a choked sob escaped his throat. Robbie collapsed onto his knees and dug his fingers into his scalp as he curled into himself.  
“Oh gods, please…please _ someone _…please shout. Please yell. Please do ANYTHING! Please! Just don’t be silent, I beg you! Please! Please…I’m sorry…” He cried as he shook on the ground, several sobs breaking up his fevered pleadings and begging._

_The townsfolk, however, offered no response. They stood as still as ever, their eyes directed in front of them, their faces devoid of expression._

\--

Robbie took a deep breath his voice having grown shaky. He exhaled raggedly.

“By…the time representatives from the academy arrived, having sensed the dark magic I cast, I had been trying to break my curse for almost three hours to no avail. I pleaded with them to help me, and they did. Their far more powerful and learned magic broke my curse instantly. All of us worked together to attend to the townsfolk, giving them water and medical attention, putting out fires and rounding up their animals. When it was all finished, however, the troubles for me had only begun.”  
“I was arrested, my house and work were burnt to the ground to avoid the spread of Darkness-based magics. I was tried, found guilty of using dark magic, and sentenced to imprisonment in this sword. They said I’d only be freed if I were used to accomplish something noble.”  
Sportacus looked at him sadly, his knees now drawn to his chest.  
“And…you’re still not free? After all this time, did they intend that? That just seems cruel and horrible.” He said.  
“No, they never intended it.” Sighed Robbie. “When they were casting the binding spell, one of the mages commented that I’d probably be imprisoned for a maximum of ten years.”  
Robbie barked a harsh laugh at that memory.  
“If only they knew.” He said. “They gave me to a brave knight from Spoilero, Sir Gregorius the Gallant. At the time, I was at peace. I was cooperative, because I knew this knight had a handsome pedigree and an unmarred battle record. He was kind, gentle, noble, and good. I figured I’d be free in no time and this debacle would be behind me.”  
He paused as he turned to look at the fire.  
“He was sent to handle a dragon problem in a distant village. As soon as he saw the dragon, he drew me and prepared to fight it. He leapt, he swung…he _missed_. Chomp. I fell to the ground and, at the time, could do nothing but watch him be gnashed and chewed by a ravenous, gigantic dragon. And thus, my first wielder died. And he wouldn’t be the last.”

“My next wielder was the man who eventually slew the dragon. He was a man named Kilroy, and he, well, rose to become one of the most notorious criminals in the country. I was used, yes, but only for whatever he desired. Unfortunately, the slaughtering of multiple crime rivals didn’t count as noble when the purpose was to clear way for your own takeover of their territories. I’m fairly certain Kilroy didn’t have a sympathetic bone in his body. I was with him for nearly thirty years before he was finally killed by one of his underlings in a jealous bid. I was thrown out with the trash.”  
Sportacus gaze grew sadder.  
“Next was an orphan boy, Henry, who scrounged me up. Stayed with him for a whole five hours before he was beaten to a pulp by some bullies. Then, a noble woman, Lydia, found me and took me as protection. Her caravan crashed off a cliff several years later, and she was gone too.”  
Robbie cleared his throat as it grew thick.  
“Then, Nathaniel, a knight’s squire who grew to become a knight. Killed in a war with a neighboring kingdom. I knew him for several years. Next, Gulra, a pirate from a distant land. Her boat was sunk, and she drowned after nearly twenty years of sailing together. Then James, died in a landslide. Then Lily, poisoned. Then Hilda, swept up in a river’s current. And more…all dead, and all I saw.” He continued, his voice growing shaky and his tone wavering.  
He shuddered a weak laugh.  
“It seemed like a cruel joke that I ever learned to move this stupid form. After I lost Hilda, I learned to move. All I could think about for weeks afterwards was how I could’ve saved them… _all_ of them, if I’d just been smart enough to learn faster. Just if. But then I realized it wouldn’t have changed a thing. They still would’ve died, and I still would’ve had to watch. I _always_ had to watch.”  
He fell quiet for a time.  
“You know, at some point you get numb. Or more, you get tired. You get tired of losing people you care about. I knew I couldn’t stop them from dying, so I tried to stop caring about them. Did anything I could to stop myself from caring and did anything so in return they couldn’t care less about me. I don’t know why I kept trying after the first few times failed…you can’t not _care_ about the people you’re with. At least, I couldn’t.”

He stopped, then turned to look at Sportacus again.  
“I…suppose I should apologize for that too, huh? How I treated you back when we first met, and you fought that moss monster? I…I wasn’t trying to let you die. I wouldn’t have wanted that, but…but I guess it all reminded me of before. I was just scared, and it’s selfish I know…I feared feeling that same pain again.”  
Sportacus’s gaze dropped.  
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t excuse what I did, I know, but I’m still sorry.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus, at first, said nothing.  
Then, quietly, he pulled Robbie over, and hugged him.  
“W-What are you doing? Did you even hear anything I _said_?? I-I thought…you’re supposed to be furious…” stammered Robbie.  
He leaned up slightly.  
“…are you mad? I just…if you are I just want to hear it now, if that’s okay.”  
Sportacus sighed quietly.  
“I feel…a lot. But, I don’t think I’m mad.” He said.  
“B-But how?? I used dark magic on innocent people! It’s the whole reason why I’m like this.”  
“You regret it.”  
“I mean, of course. But who wouldn’t regret it?” asked Robbie.  
“Someone who is worth getting mad at.” Sportacus said plainly as he looked at Robbie.  
Robbie looked at the intensity in Sportacus’s eyes and gulped.  
“O-Oh.”  
“Robbie,” said Sportacus. “even if I were mad, I wouldn’t get mad at you if I could help it. What you did was wrong, yes, and incredibly stupid.”  
Robbie wanted to shrink away.  
“ _But_ , what you’ve been through, and how long you’ve been trapped…any semblance of justice is gone now. Long gone. What you told me was…was horrible.”  
“You deal, I guess.” Robbie said weakly. “Part of being a sword, that’s all.”  
“But you _aren’t_ a sword.” Sportacus said emphatically. “You’re a man. You’re Robbie. And none of what you’ve suffered should be suffered by a person.”  
Robbie was shaking slightly.  
“I-It wasn’t…look, I didn’t…” He started.  
Sportacus only hugged him more.  
“I de…I des…please stop it’s not…” Robbie rambled.  
Sportacus kept hugging him.

The thickness welled within Robbie, the pit in his stomach whirling and swirling. His mind felt full and heavy, and something felt caught in his words, something that ached.

It burned, and simmered, and grew.

Until, finally, a choked sob escaped him.

“It’s okay.” Said Sportacus with a soft voice.  
The hero listened as Robbie continued to cry a tearless cry, his form shivering as he leaned against his chest. How much Sportacus wished Robbie was back in his human form, so he could give him a true hug, rather than the awkward hold they had to prevent cuts and gashes.  
“Do you miss them?” asked Sportacus quietly.  
“Y-Yes…I miss m-many of them…” admitted Robbie with a hiccup. “I-I sometimes see them a-at night…”  
“Oh Robbie…” Sportacus said sadly.  
Robbie choked and wept.  
“Shh, it’s okay.” Whispered Sportacus. “Just let it all out, okay? It’s okay, you can cry.”  
Robbie’s sobbing continued.  
“It’s okay…it’s okay…” Sportacus continued to reassure.

And so, Robbie’s sobbing flowed out like a river whose dam had just broken. He cried and sobbed, choked ones and clear ones, punctuated by hiccups and weeping and shaking and trembling. Hundreds of years of repressed, welled emotions spilled out all in one go. Every emotion Robbie didn’t let himself feel, because he never felt he _should_ feel them, was released in a torrent that encompassed his very being.  
He never could’ve done this before, not on his own.  
But with Sportacus, in his arms, he felt…safe.  
He felt it _was_ okay.  
So he let himself continue to cry.

An hour passed, and not once did Robbie’s crying stop. Sportacus remained there, ever patient and ever present, holding the wea… _man_ as he sobbed.  
And, eventually, Robbie’s crying quieted. Not because he didn’t want to cry anymore, but because he physically couldn’t. He felt beyond drained, as if he’d been squeezed dry of any emotional capacity he could possibly have.  
A hiccup escaped him, and he shuddered and shook one last time. His breathing was labored and heavy as he laid against Sportacus’s chest. He felt the hero’s hands gently pat him, and he sighed a ragged sigh.  
Gently, without another word, he felt himself be lifted by his wielder. His vision was fading, half-lidded, but he just about understood what was happening. Sportacus carried him carefully towards his bed roll. There, less than a foot away, he laid him softly on the ground, his gemstone pointed towards the starry night sky.  
Sportacus knelt there, on one knee, and looked at him with a soft yet saddened expression.  
Robbie wanted to say something, at least a thanks, but the words weren’t there.  
His vision and his consciousness was fading towards sleep fast, the image of Sportacus, hair highlighted by the dying fire the last thing he saw.  
And the last words he heard were these, from Sportacus:  
“I promise you, Robbie, I’ll make sure you’re free from this curse. I won’t let you suffer any longer. I promise.”

And with that, Robbie finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we finally have both our main characters' backstories, and it only took about half the fic haha. I hope this chapter is good, this is one that I feel unsure about mainly because there was a lot to convey for Robbie, hence a few flashbacks. Poor guy needs some hugs.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	16. The Bath

The first thing he smelled as he awoke was bacon and eggs.

Instantly, it stirred a hunger within him, even as he lacked an appetite or the ability to consume anything, edible or not. He used to love bacon and eggs, and as he awoke his mind conjured a memory of a lazy Sunday morning where his mother made heaping piles of the breakfast staple for him and his cousin.  
Robbie sighed and stared up at the sky. It was a cloudy day, with said clouds looking a little on the darker side. Rain must be on the horizon.  
He sat himself up and caught a glimpse of Sportacus, which made him pause.

The elf was seated next to the fire, his legs crossed, his attention fixed upon a plate healthily populated with bacon and eggs.  
His hair was loose again, darn it all it was loose again.  
Robbie failed to greet the elf on time.  
“Morning.” He finally said.  
Sportacus looked over, his hair flipping over to his shoulder. He grinned.  
“Good morning Robbie! Sleep well?” He asked.  
“Y-Yeah…yeah, actually, I did.” Robbie said as he hopped over. “Weird, I’m not used to this.”  
Sportacus chuckled and shook his head.  
“That’s not good, Robbie. You should tell me if you’re not sleeping well!”  
“Yeah, yeah, thanks mom, will do.” Robbie grumbled as he stopped next to Sportacus.  
Sportacus smirked.  
“That smells _really_ good.” Commented Robbie as he stared at Sportacus’s plate.  
“I’d have made you some, but…well.” Sportacus said with a cringe.  
“Yeah, no, got it. Thanks for the thought, but the less yolk smeared on me the better.” Robbie stated.

Sportacus smiled as he took another bite of egg, the yolk dripping onto his lips.  
Robbie pointedly ignored that.  
“So, how are you? How are you feeling? I know last night was a bit…emotional.” Said Sportacus more seriously.  
Robbie paused.  
“I…I’m okay. I may have slept well, but I’d be lying if I said I felt _rested_. I still feel drained.” He admitted.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“I’m hoping today is a little more relaxed. We have another day and a half before we reach Solstice Peak, so we’ll be traveling, but I hope we won’t run into any bandits.” He said as he picked up Robbie and sheathed him.  
He stopped, then looked at him.  
“Will you be _okay_ going to Solstice Peak? I would leave you somewhere, so you didn’t have to go in, but – “Sportacus asked.  
“I’ll be fine.” Robbie said tersely.  
“You sure?” asked Sportacus with a slight worry.  
Robbie stopped. Then, he nodded.  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. As long as there’s nothing we need to do, we’ll be in and out fast enough. That’s all I’m hoping for.” He said quietly.  
Sportacus nodded slowly.  
“I’m…sure that there’s nothing they’ll need our help for there. If so, we’ll be quick to fix it.” He said. “And if those mages try to do anything to you, well, that’s another story.”  
“What? What will you do?” asked Robbie, morbidly curious.  
“Nothing bad, don’t get me wrong! Just…I won’t let them hurt you.” Said Sportacus.  
“No chopping off limbs.”  
“I didn’t even suggest that!”  
“I don’t know, maybe you’d become an elven madman if I’m threatened. You’re conscious now, but oh dear, what if you’d just lose it if _I_ , your _best friend_ , was hurt?” Robbie said dramatically.  
“Oh brother.” Sportacus said, rolling his eyes with a smile.  
“Neither of us know!”  
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have it in me.” Said Sportacus as he finished his breakfast.

After cleaning his plate, Sportacus put away his dishware and tied up his hair into its usual ponytail. He slipped on his armor and mounted Loftskip, who seemed slightly bored at the moment.  
Cracking the reigns, Loftskip took off once more along the path, trotting at a steady speed.  
“So, you said you aren’t sure, but you don’t know for certain? You _could_ lop off a mage’s hand to save my life?” suggested Robbie.  
“What is your obsession with limb loss this morning?!” sighed Sportacus with a head shake.  
“No obsession! I’m just saying – “  
“No limb loss! That’s final!” Sportacus finished with a laugh.  
“Fine. Light maiming instead, got it.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus groaned and nearly bent over as he stifled his annoyed laughter.

\--

The two rode onwards, through the lengthy and near endless fields of rocks and moss, the same as yesterday yet still slightly different. Steam burst up randomly from different piles of rocks and bubbling pools of murky water. A mountain, whose peak upon which Solstice Peak sat, loomed in the distance, surrounded by fog and low-hanging clouds that gave it a mysterious, almost hauntingly intimidating vibe that no doubt frightened away most casual travelers.  
The familiarity of it all struck Robbie with a sense of melancholy. The last time he’d rode through here was with one of his previous wielders, a bard who wished to perform for the arch mages at his old academy.  
Internally, he grimaced as he remembered the fate of said bard, who ignored his warnings about the blisteringly hot temperatures of the unmarked thermal pools that dotted the rocky landscape. It was unpleasant, to the say the least, and all he could be thankful for was that he’d be found by his next wielder only a week afterwards.

He decided to stop thinking about said bard and decided to focus on the here and now.

The area, despite its moon-like texture, was rather eerily beautiful. Steam clung to the rocks like a blanket and the air, despite it being fairly warm, still felt damp and cold.  
The smell in the air was pungent, like rotten eggs, but something else punctuated the air.  
He sniffed and cringed.  
The smell was unpleasant, but it wasn’t rotten eggs. What was it?  
As Loftskip trotted on, he looked about, sniffing constantly as he searched for the smell, that wholly unpleasant and distracting smell.  
He stopped once he reached Sportacus.  
“Uh, Sportacus, not to embarrass you, but when’s the last time you had a bath?” He asked.  
Sportacus, who had been paying attention to the road at the time, looked rather surprised as he thought backwards. His eyes widened as he counted the days and, well, his face conveyed his answer plainly.  
“I thought so.” Robbie simply said.  
“I fell into the ocean back in Spoilero, does that count for anything?” asked Sportacus sheepishly.  
“You need a bath, elf boy.”  
“Where am I going to take a bath, Robbie? I’m pretty sure all these pools are boiling at least. If I jump in, I’d cook like a potato.”  
“If you’re lucky that’s all you’ll do.” Robbie mumbled grimly as he thought. He looked about and down the road as he jogged his memory, something faintly suggesting a pool of some kind.

He spotted it down the road, a long-rotted signpost made of wood pointing off to a small, overgrown side road.

“Aha, I thought so! Take a right down that way.” Said Robbie.  
“What’s down there?” asked Sportacus.  
“I’ll explain on the way. Just take the right.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus pursed his lips with reluctance. Then, relenting, he turned Loftskip off the main road and down the little side path.  
They rode down the road for several minutes with not a word exchanged between them. The rotten egg smell faded in the air and grew cleaner, instead smelling damp and slightly imposing with its heat.  
“Alright Robbie, where are we going?” asked Sportacus.  
“A special place for the mages.” Robbie said. “Back when I was in the academy, there was a hot spring we liked to relax in after element magic practice. I remember it was the absolute perfect temperature and it should be right around this corner.”  
Sportacus turned to look in front of him right in time as Loftskip walked around the corner and came to a stop, the group admiring the scene.

The water was a murky, light turquoise that swirled with streams of white in the wide, concealed main pool. The air smelt clean with only the punctuation of warm steam that left one’s skin feeling damp present. Three waterfalls, two smaller off to the sides and one gigantic and at the furthest end of the pool, thundered and pounded the bottom pool with gallons of the cloudy water. Framing the pool were the same, darkly colored rocks, though these were far smoother due to the sanding of the pool water.

Sportacus whistled lowly as he slowly dismounted.  
“This place is beautiful.” He said softly.  
“Go test the water. Should be perfect bathing temperature.” Urged Robbie.  
Sportacus wiggled one of his gauntlets off his hand as he approached the water. Cautiously, he dipped the tips of his fingers into the cloudy water. Robbie was right; the water was the perfect temperature, just warm enough to be inviting without boiling.  
“There’s lots of minerals in that water, if you’re wondering about the color. As far as I know, it’s the only pool of its kind in the country.” Robbie explained proudly.  
As Robbie continued to babble, Sportacus strode over excitedly and tied Loftskip to a nearby rock.  
“It was the best place to relax after all the studying we’d have to do. Come to think of it, it’s as close as you could get to a decent conversation with your classmates. Not that that was saying much, all our chats were about magic, but you can’t be picky I suppose. I remember this one time we were practicing plant spells for five hours and – _oof_!”  
Robbie grunted uncomfortably as he found himself unceremoniously faceplanted against the ground, his gemstone bouncing against the stony ground.  
“Sportaflop! What the hell was that for?! Did you really just drop me – “Robbie complained, his voice slightly muffled.

He heard a large splash coming behind him, and a spray of warm water hit his back.

“Oh.” Robbie said flatly, still annoyed.  
He heard more water splashing.  
“Sorry Robbie! I didn’t mean to drop you so quickly. I just got so excited to jump in while you were talking!” He heard Sportacus say.  
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just next time give a guy a heads up before you chuck him against a rock, okay?” Robbie grumbled.  
“Sorry.” Sportacus said sheepishly. “Are you uncomfortable? Here, I can turn you upright.”  
“No need, I got it.” Robbie said. “Go enjoy your bath, you stinky elf.”  
He heard Sportacus chuckle.  
“Okay, Robbie. Whatever you say.”  
Another splash of water, and soon the splashes were growing more distant.

Robbie grunted uncomfortably as he started to turn himself over.  
“Darn elf, can’t believe he just dropped me like that. How’d he get undressed so fast? I didn’t even hear him remove his chestplate. Geez Robbie, you and your need to prattle.” He grumbled as he began to turn himself to his side.  
“Still, prattling or not, I’ll get him back for just chucking me. He went on all yesterday about how I’m a man, not a sword, but then he throws me! What kind of hypocrisy is that?!” Robbie continued to complain as he chuckled.  
Successfully, he set himself to his side.  
“Alright, just a little bit more and I’ll at least be on my back.” Muttered Robbie. “ _Phew_ , I don’t remember this being so tiring. Stupid crying session took more out of me than I thought. Oh well, at least it’s over and done with so I can – “

He stopped his rambling once his gaze, finally, rose from off the ground to right in front of him.

And oh, what a mistake that was for him to do.

His mother had told him before that staring was incredibly rude and, of course, how would you feel if someone was staring at _you_? Robbie would usually conclude that that wouldn’t feel comfortable at all and, thus, knew that he shouldn’t.  
He wondered if his mother would give him a mulligan on this one.  
Sportacus was apparently not as far off as he thought he was. In fact, he was standing right underneath the closest, and most gentle, waterfall.  
He was standing with his back to Robbie, which he was thankful for.  
But _still_.  
He always figured that Sportacus was a strong man, or at the very least fit. His back, which revealed its tone with a defined line down its middle and contoured shapes around his various muscles, brought to his mind some of the statues the more artistic mages studied in the library with their minute spare time. The water came up just a little below his mid-spine, water lapping upwards, leaving a glistening effect against his skin.  
His hair was dampened to a darker golden blonde and laid flat, draping down his back and spilling over his shoulders. Just barely Robbie could see his ears poking out from the curtain of gold.  
Robbie froze as Sportacus turned, his fear of being caught fading once he realized that the elf’s eyes were closed.  
They were closed, and the man looked, well, _content_.  
Sportacus ran his hands across his scalp, his shoulder and bicep muscles tensing and flexing, and Robbie was simply done at that moment.  
He felt like he’d been hit by a wagon as he collapsed onto his back, his mind freezing and clumsily skipping several key emotions and thoughts as it tried desperately to collect itself.

Sportacus, hearing the clattering sound, turned to look back at Robbie.  
“Robbie? You okay? Did you get yourself turned around alright?” He asked casually.  
It took Robbie several prolonged seconds before he could manage anything close to a coherent answer.  
“Yes.” He eked out.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Okay, just making sure. I won’t be much longer, I promise.” He said.  
“Kay.” Responded Robbie as he stared blankly at the sky, the movement of the clouds lost on him as he stared.

He was still collecting himself several minutes later when Sportacus appeared again in his vision. Blessedly (for at least his regathering of his senses), the man was dressed once more.  
“This was such a great idea! That was really relaxing.” Said Sportacus as he picked Robbie up.  
“Yeah.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus quirked an eyebrow.  
“You okay?” He asked.  
“I hit my head when I turned over.” Robbie mumbled.  
“Oh! Well, I’m sorry. Anything I can do to help?” asked Sportacus.  
“Nope. I’ll be fine.” Robbie said.  
“Oh, uh, okay.” Said Sportacus as he sheathed him once more.  
Sportacus leapt up onto Loftskip’s back once more after untying her and turned her back towards the road.

And while he hung from his sheath, poor Robbie could only think about how this man…this _handsome_ elf, was going to be the death of him, if only from sheer torment.

\--

The day rolled past mostly uneventful. Loftskip had kept a fairly consistent pace, trotting through the seemingly endless fields of rock and moss, her hooves clacking against the inconsistent and rough ground beneath her. Sportacus kept his attention on the road ahead, his eyes scanning for any potential dangers or hidden threats amidst the endless rock formations and steaming pools of sulfurous water that bubbled and spurted.  
As for Robbie, he kept himself silent throughout the rest of the ride, his mind still grappling and reeling.  
He really wished that it’d get with the program that, hello, they were far away from the thermal pool and thus, time to move on to a more productive thought pattern, of which there were many options.  
He could be thinking about his previous magic training to recall more spells and incantations that might be beneficial in battle. He could be thinking about how to handle his potential reunion with the academy’s mages, a situation that most likely would be quite awkward. He could even think about the location of the last piece of the blessed armor, given that supposedly only one of the last two parts rested in Solstice Peak.

But no, his brain was not nearly so helpful.

Instead, it kept Robbie firmly planted back at the thermal pool, and the image of Sportacus underneath that waterfall.

He really wished his brain would kindly knock it off, since all the thought did was bring him stress and that warm feeling that, while not wholly unwelcome, was definitely not necessary at the moment.  
What did his brain think he could accomplish by swimming around that same image for unnecessary lengths of time? Had his own mind gone rogue and was planning Robbie’s downfall by continuously prodding his (purposefully) ignored feelings like a stupid person poking a lion with a stick?  
All it did was leave him feeling irritated and his tongue slightly knotted.  
This feeling didn’t improve by the time Sportacus had pulled off the road for the night. He lit a campfire, and, after dinner, he set up his tent for the first time in their whole journey as a light rain began to fall.  
Crawling inside the small but cozy structure, Sportacus pulled Robbie inside and set him off to the side on his back. Sportacus took off his armor and set it away before he laid on his bed roll, his hair loose of its ponytail.  
Robbie, very deliberately, kept his attention focused on the beige material of the tent. Words sat uneasily at the tip of his tongue.  
He wanted to ask, but he also didn’t want to.

On one hand, if he asked and Sportacus said no, problem was mostly solved. He could murder his feelings with a giant shovel and move on with his life. Keep their relationship as friends and be satisfied.  
If Sportacus said yes, on the other hand, well…that added some complications and yet it left Robbie feeling a little hopeful.  
In the end, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to hear.  
And as for whether he _should_ ask his question, the choice was near taken out of his hands when it spilled forth after Sportacus’s question:

“Robbie, what do you think you’ll do after we beat the Darkness?”  
Robbie paused, his mental spiraling freezing for just a moment.  
“After we beat it?” Robbie asked, collecting himself.  
He thought.  
“Well…I guess I haven’t thought that far ahead.” He admitted. “Truth be told, it’s a weird thing to think about, us defeating the literal essence of a _god_ in combat.”  
“Does seem rather big when you think about it.” Said Sportacus.  
“Yeah. I think I need to wrangle that before I can start thinking about after that.” Robbie said.  
“Fair, I get it.”  
Pause.  
“Well? How about you? Got any, uh, plans for afterwards?” asked Robbie awkwardly.  
Sportacus sighed.  
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe about doing more adventuring, but I’m not sure how I’ll be feeling after we defeat the Darkness.”  
“I’d think you’d want a break after that. I mean, how much more thrills could you get adventuring after beating something as big as _that_? Either you’re nuts or have high standards.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“Suppose you’re right. I don’t know then, maybe find someplace to lay some roots? Maybe build a home, travel for a bit – “  
“Find someone?” Robbie accidentally blurted.

Sportacus fell quiet, his eyes widening.  
“ _Well, crap. Bravo Robbie, you just killed the conversation._ ” Thought Robbie ruefully.

Sportacus, however, simply looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. He stroked his mustache in thought.  
“You know, I hadn’t really thought about that. I…suppose if I met someone, I would. I just need to find the right person.” He said.  
“That makes sense.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus rolled over to his side, facing Robbie, and propped his head up under his palm. He looked at Robbie with a small smile which made Robbie want to scream.  
“How about you? Do you think you’ll go find someone after the Darkness is defeated?” He asked.  
“ _No need to find someone, I’m set._ ” Robbie’s brain immediately intruded. Robbie had never wanted to slap his brain as much as he did right then.  
“Uh, n-no. I don’t think so, at least not immediately. I’ve still got five hundred years of adjusting to do, you know? Sure, I was awake during all of that, but I wasn’t exactly up and about. Have to get used to a body again.” He fumbled.  
Sportacus blinked and nodded.  
“Good point. I guess finding someone wouldn’t be the highest on your priority list then.” He said as he rolled back onto his back.

The two went quiet again as Robbie stewed with his next question, which currently held his tongue hostage and prevented any other, non-feelings related question from arising.

“So, have you ever, you know, felt like that about someone?” He asked.  
Sportacus sighed and stared at the ceiling. He shrugged and made a non-committal noise.  
“Sort of? A long time ago, sure.” He said.  
“Oh? What were they like?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus smiled a small smile.  
“Very sweet, graceful, and what a voice.” He answered. “I was fifteen when I met her, the jam maker’s daughter Eðna. She was sitting on a wall, bundling lavender blossoms into fragrant bouquets. I was walking over to pick up some jars of huckleberry jam when I saw her. I’d never seen anyone so pretty in my life.” He recounted.  
As sweet as the story was, it made Robbie’s heart sink like a rock.  
“Did you ever go out with her?” He asked.  
Sportacus chuckled and shook his head.  
“No, I was little slow on the draw, so to speak. I never got up the nerve to ask her out and, a few months later, she started dating the son of one of the captains. I think they got married about a year ago now.”  
“Congratulations to them, but I’m sorry to you.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus shook his head again.  
“It was so long ago it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’m just happy she’s happy.” He said.  
“How noble of you.” Robbie said flatly.  
Sportacus smirked.  
“But, um, anyone else?” He asked.  
For a moment, Robbie could’ve sworn he saw a pink color rise on Sportacus’s cheeks. The man looked up thoughtfully before he shook his head.  
“No, not really. No one seriously anyways. A few passing fancies, but not many of them stuck. I guess I just haven’t met the right person yet. Probably for the better given our quest.” He said.  
“Ah. Right.” Robbie said, feeling a little disappointed despite himself.

Sportacus turned back over to his side.  
“You?” He asked.  
Robbie stopped and sighed.  
“Uh, not really? Like you, mostly passing fancies.” He said.  
“Oh? Men or women?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie froze.  
“U-Uh…” He stumbled.  
Sportacus looked at him sympathetically.  
“If it makes you feel less worried, I like both.” He said.  
“W-Wait, really?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus smiled.  
“Yeah, I really care more about the personality than the gender, if that makes sense.”  
“S-Sure, I just…oh.” Robbie said.  
“You’re surprised by that?”  
“N-No! I mean, y – uh, I really don’t know how to answer that.” Robbie stuttered.  
Sportacus laughed.  
“It’s no big deal, I won’t be offended.” He said.  
“Oh good, because…alright. Okay.” Robbie fumbled. “Uh, I-I like guys.”  
“Oh?” Sportacus said with a curious look.  
“Y-Yeah. Always have, ever since I was young. Never really talked about it though.” He admitted.  
“Well, you can talk about it with me, if you’d like.” Sportacus offered.  
“Thanks, but I think we’ll need to put a raincheck on that. I’m still cooling down.”  
“Understandable. You’ve made a great step by talking about it.” Sportacus encouraged.  
Robbie breathed a ragged sigh.  
“ _Good lord, now what do I do._ ” He thought wearily. Beating his feelings into submission was no longer an option, but now what?

The two laid there quietly again. Robbie, simply, decided to just see. Test the waters.

“What do you like?” He asked.  
“About a partner?”  
“Yeah.”  
Sportacus, laying on his back, drummed his fingers against his chest. A warm look encompassed his face.  
“I don’t know. I kind of like someone who’s kind, someone who’s caring. A sense of humor is nice too. I guess I’m not too picky.” He admitted.  
“N-Nothing looks wise?”  
Sportacus paused, and an image crossed his mind. That stranger.  
“No, not really.” He said quietly.  
“Oh.” Said Robbie.  
“And you?”  
Robbie sighed.  
“I…I never know how to put it in words. I guess I just know when I meet them. Just…someone with a good heart, if I’d have to say anything. Someone that it feels right to be with, someone who being together with makes me feel like I could fly, and they feel the same. Someone I could see myself sharing a life with.” He answered.  
“ _Someone like, maybe, you._ ” His thought spilled.  
“That sounds nice.” Said Sportacus quietly, a small smile crossing his lips.  
“Thanks. Yours sounds nice too.” Robbie said as equally quiet.  
Sportacus looked over with a warm smile.  
“I hope you find someone like that someday. You really deserve it.” He said.  
Robbie froze. His heart was beating out of his chest.  
“Y-You too.” He finally said.  
Sportacus, smiling tiredly, yawned loudly.  
“I think I’m fading. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” He said as he turned away.  
“Right, sounds good.” Robbie said, his gaze returning to the tent’s top.

He sighed near silently as he stared.

“Good night, Robbie.” Said Sportacus.  
“Good night, Sportacus.” Replied Robbie.

It took Robbie far longer to fall asleep that night. His mind was wrestling too much with his feelings and thoughts, all of them pointing towards one direction, but him steering towards another.  
“ _No, no, stop it. One thing at a time. We have a god of darkness to defeat first. If we survive and if I get my body back, we can figure this out then. Right now, it’s pointless. Can’t expect a guy to like you back if you’re trapped as an inanimate object._ ” Robbie thought darkly.  
As he tried to fall asleep, distantly, he thought he heard rustling in the rocks above them. However, his ignored this, chalking it up to rodents or another animal, as he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, a slightly lighter chapter after a pretty heavy last chapter. Luckily things can only go uphill from here, right? Nothing bad at all.
> 
> But yeah, I wanted to thank everyone for all the kind comments posted on the last chapter. It really made my day to see how many people are enjoying the story so far and it really encourages me to write more, so thank you so much. I hope that everyone continues to like how the story goes as it progresses and hopefully all your questions are answered satisfyingly lol.
> 
> I'll also admit that I was very nervous about posting this chapter, mostly because of the bath in the chapter's title lol. Please let me know if you think the rating should be changed or any warnings should be added because I definitely will do that immediately. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	17. The Arena Pt. 1

Robbie’s less than peaceful sleep was abruptly ended by the sharp sound of canvas ripping and the brush of cold air suddenly intruding upon the warmth of the tent.

He awoke just in time to see three men, all hulking and built like brick walls, glaring at him and Sportacus with devilish smiles. Two of the men brandished long, wooden poles, and the third clutched a jagged knife.  
Sportacus shot up awake, his eyes widening at the sight of the three intruders.  
He lunged forward and reached for Robbie as the men chuckled.  
Before he could reach him, however, Robbie gasped as he suddenly felt himself be flung upwards, freezing several feet mid-air above Sportacus’s grasp.  
His vision had been completely blanketed in blinding, light blue light.  
“Robbie!” cried Sportacus.  
“Sportacus!” shouted Robbie as he struggled, to no avail.  
He felt himself float gently downwards as he heard the sounds of struggling and brawling, shouts and cries erupting away from him.  
His vision slowly cleared, spots blinking out of his vision, once he felt the undeniable presence of _someone_ staring straight at him.

The first thing he saw was a pair of piercing, pale blue eyes staring straight into his gemstone. The next was the pale, ash gray hair that framed their face, _her_ face.  
The woman’s hands were extended in front of her, her palms glowing the same blinding, light blue color that had consumed him. She was dressed in baggy, flowing, dark gray robes, her hood partially obscuring her.  
Robbie struggled further as the woman examined him closely.  
“Enchanted weapon. Interesting.” She noted softly.  
“Let me go!” shouted Robbie.  
The woman simply shook her head as she spun him back around to face away from her. Robbie’s head spun for a moment before he finally looked at the scene in front of him.  
He felt himself freeze.  
He was spun just in time to see Sportacus land a vicious uppercut to one of the three men surrounding him, a brief spray of blood and a single tooth flying for his efforts. He kicked at a man to his right as a man behind him reached for him.  
“Watch out!” Robbie yelled.  
Sportacus stopped, his face paling at Robbie, just long enough for the man behind him to reach and yank him back by the hair. Sportacus screamed as he was roughly pulled back, his arms trapped by his side as he man clutched him in a one-armed vice against his chest. He lifted Sportacus upwards and allowed Sportacus’s legs to kick and flail.  
The two other men approached Sportacus, carrying long, darkly colored chains in their hands.  
Sportacus, seeing this, swung his legs forward and down, throwing all his weight forward as he found himself upright. His captor, in return, gasped as he was suddenly lifted onto Sportacus’s back, his own legs swinging helplessly. Roaring, Sportacus spun around, allowing his would-be captor’s legs to clobber his compatriots before he fully chucked the man over his shoulders, Sportacus gasping after his effort.

“Pathetic.” Muttered the woman as she shook her head. “Where does she hire these men?”  
Sportacus turned his attention to the man to his left and swung his arm at him, clocking him in the temple while he dodged the man’s chain. During this, however, he failed to account for the man to his right and, as he turned, his head was rung as the man landed a punch straight to his jaw.  
“Don’t damage him! She wants them to be in one-piece you idiot!” snapped the woman angrily.  
As Sportacus recovered from the strike to his jaw, he gasped and flopped onto the ground as the man on his right threw another haymaker. The man, subsequently, missed, and near tumbled over Sportacus. Sportacus rolled and tumbled back onto his feet as the man on his left attempted to cage him. He blocked several of the man’s attempts to punch and strike him and, when the man threw his chain and wrapped it around Sportacus’s forearm, Sportacus grabbed the chain and pulled him forward, straight into his awaiting fist. The man stumbled back, letting go his chain in favor of clutching his nose.  
The woman sighed loudly and pinched her nose as she shook her head.  
“It appears I must do everything myself, _as usual_.” She muttered as she raised her hand.  
She waited for Sportacus to turn towards her again before she snapped her fingers.

Instantaneously, the area was filled with a blinding white light that stunned Sportacus and left him reeling. He cried out and, while the light quickly faded, his vision was not so quick to return.

“Get him now!” cried the woman.  
Before Sportacus could react, he heard something jangle above him before something cold and metal slapped against his chest and pulled taught, trapping his arms against his sides.  
“Sportacus!” shouted Robbie.  
Sportacus struggled with his restraint, but without his vision he wasn’t sure where to start. He felt something cold clank shut tight across his wrists before his forearms were unceremoniously yanked back.  
He heard cackling and laughter as his arms were pulled tighter against his back, crossed against each other. He heard footsteps running around him as the chains attached to his shackles were wound across his chest no more than four times. As his vision cleared, he was sharply pulled forward and onto his chest, his face slamming against the ground. He groaned painfully as he wriggled against his shackles.  
“Bind his legs! Quickly!” ordered the woman as she snapped her fingers.  
Hearing this, Sportacus blindly kicked behind him, but met nothing but air. He felt his ankles get yanked as they too were shackled together. Two of his captors pulled back on the chains attached to his wrist shackles and his shoulders, forcing him up onto his knees.  
Finally seeing the woman up close, he glared angrily at her.  
She looked at him with a discerning gaze, her look only darkening for a moment at the rapidly darkening bruise on his jaw.  
“Hmph, we could touch up the bruise with some cream. Otherwise, I think I found us quite a catch.” She said with smirk.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and his gaze snapped behind him once he heard a distressed whinny from Loftskip. He looked back and saw one of the men wrestling with her reins and attempting to control her as she tossed her head and attempted to kick.  
He looked back at the woman and glared.  
“Who are you, and what do you want with us?” He growled.  
“Oh, nothing much. _I_ personally don’t want you, but my boss will certainly be pleased to see you. She’s been looking for some strong fighters to add to her collection, and you should fit the ticket.” She explained simply.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“C-Collection?” He asked angrily.  
“Gag him.” Ordered the woman as she walked away with Robbie floating after her.  
“Hold on! You let go of Robbie or I’ll – “Sportacus started to shout before he was silenced, a long strip of cloth crossing his open mouth and being tied taught.

Sportacus was forced onto his feet and, carefully, he was walked over to a waiting cart. The third of the men was finishing up with tossing his possessions, including the blessed armor, in the back. The woman laid Robbie atop the armor after she did several motions with her hands, the light blue aura surrounding him remaining.  
As they reached the cart, Sportacus was lifted and roughly chucked in the back, the men following after him with a hearty laugh.  
She cracked a whip over her horses’ heads and they started off, the cart rolling and rocking over the bumpy ground. Behind them, Sportacus could watch Loftskip be led along, a rope attached to her bridle connecting her to the cart.  
He looked at her sadly, apologizing to her in his head, as he apologized mentally to Robbie too. He growled and glared as one man propped his legs upon his bound arms, using him as a foot rest as he laughed.  
“Don’t get too much mud on him, you idiot.” Snipped the woman. “After all, he should be in the best shape possible before meeting Master Claudia.”  
The man nodded and set his feet down as the woman cracked the whip once more, the horses trotting into high gear.

\--

Somehow, blessedly, Sportacus managed to find some sleep despite the uncomfortable position he was locked in, the bumpy cart ride, and the irritation of being used as an occasional foot rest by the hulking warrior.

He was shaken awake as the cart hit a particularly large bump, him gaining a moment of airtime as he crashed back onto the cart.  
He leaned up and looked around, but from where he laid he couldn’t see much of anything.  
What he could see, however, was not familiar by any means. The rocks looked far more menacing than they had earlier, them stretching taller and more jagged. Barely, he could see men and women dressed in heavy, gray armor as holding various weapons from spears to battleaxes. They were all guarding what looked like the only road in the area, which was lit with torches.  
The cart pulled to a stop.  
“Alright elf boy, here’s your stop!” laughed one of the warriors as he hauled Sportacus up.  
Sportacus said nothing and only stared angrily at the guard as he was tossed to the other warrior, who set him on his feet.  
Sportacus looked up and gawked at the gigantic building. It was a dome, that was clear. The dome was built of stained red metal and covered in spines that made it look like a desert tortoise. A gigantic door, fitted with a gate and double doors, appeared to be the only entrance inside.  
The third warrior clutched the chain attached to his wrist shackles and yanked him forward, forcing Sportacus to stumble forward.  
“Come on elf boy! Boss won’t wait forever.” Laughed the third warrior as he yanked the chain again.  
Sportacus glared at him as he tried to look back, hoping to see Loftskip and Robbie.  
Just barely, he could see Loftskip led away to what looked like stables at the side of the dome.  
He couldn’t see Robbie, but he could see someone sifting through his things in the cart.  
“Move it!” barked the third warrior as he yanked the chain once more.  
Sportacus’s attention snapped to the guard and, lowly, he growled. Jumping back, he yanked on the chain, unbalancing his keeper.  
“Watch it!” shouted the warrior as he yanked back.  
Sportacus frowned and charged forward, pointing his shoulder at the warrior. The warrior grunted as he was knocked into and fell onto his back. The other warrior threw his arms around Sportacus and pulled him back, lifting him up.  
“You’re a wily one, aren’t you? Oh ho, the audience will like you, if you _survive_ to meet the boss.” Growled the warrior.  
Sportacus smirked at the warrior before he, like before, threw the warrior over his shoulder with a throw of his legs.  
With both warriors dispatched, Sportacus attempted to shuffle away, only to find himself stopped in place, his body slightly glowing a light blue.

“Enough of that. You two, the incompetent ones, leave. Can’t even manage a single elf.” The woman from earlier stated annoyedly as she drew Sportacus back to his original spot and turned him around.  
Sportacus stopped his struggling once he saw the woman and man now standing in front of him. The woman was tall, pale, and stunning with long, glossy black hair. She was dressed in a long, red dress matched with several golden necklaces. The man next to her was quite a contrast, a messily dressed man with a scraggly, long, unkempt beard and distracted eyes. If she looked like a china vase, he looked like an unmade bed.  
The woman waved her fan with interest.  
“What have you brought for me today, Laguna?” She asked with a smooth, regal voice.  
Laguna gave a short bow.  
“Master Claudia, I found this elf camping in the rock fields outside of Solstice Peak. He gave the men quite a fight.” She explained with a voice far more courteous than she ever offered her warriors.  
Claudia approached Sportacus with an imposing gaze, yet her expression read quiet curiosity. She examined Sportacus, looking at his hair and even, rather embarrassingly, checking his teeth.  
Sportacus’s face turned a shade of red.  
“Hmm, healthy. Clean hair, a rarity for warriors.” Noted Claudia, who stopped once she noticed the bruise. She tilted Sportacus’s face, her skin soft and smooth.  
She frowned with cold anger as she looked back at Laguna.  
“Laguna, what is this?” She asked quietly.  
Laguna bowed quickly.  
“My apologies, Master Claudia, but the men were quite careless. However, it shows the kind of fight this elf was willing to give, even when he was hopelessly outnumbered. If you’d like, I could direct you to the guards he fought as well. I assure you they are far more injured than him.” She said quickly.  
Claudia stepped back and shook her head.  
“No, that’s quite unnecessary. He’s quite a specimen. Shame he’ll most likely not survive, I’d almost like to keep him.” She sighed wistfully.  
Sportacus and the scraggly man looked at her with shocked eyes.  
“P-Pardon??” sputtered the man angrily.  
“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, we have enough servants I know. That’s why I said it’s a shame. No exceptions for this round.” She said sweetly as she kissed the man’s cheek.  
The man glared angrily, giving her a wary look, before he finally let go of his rage and shook his head. However, Sportacus was still left uneasy.  
“Mark him, Laguna.” Claudia said sternly.

Laguna nodded and stepped forward. She yanked Sportacus’s sleeve up, exposing his right arm. With a snap of her fingers, her hand was burning with light blue flame. Slowly and carefully, she traced along Sportacus’s skin, etching a strange, edged design along his shoulder.  
Sportacus forced his eyes shut and choked back a scream.  
“Hmm, he’s doing well. Most warriors cry after that. He’ll give us a fantastic fight.” Said Claudia as she snapped her fingers.  
With Laguna’s work done, she stepped away and the light blue aura vanished from Sportacus. As he floated back to the ground, he was instantly grabbed by two other guards, who roughly led him into the dome.  
“Oh, and one more thing, guards.” Claudia said as she fluttered her fan.  
The guards stopped and turned to look at their boss, which turned Sportacus as well.  
“Do something about his hair. That long hair of his provides too much of a weak point, and we want a fair fight, don’t we?” She said quietly.  
Sportacus’s face went ghostly white, while the guards grinned and nodded.  
Claudia walked down a different corridor of the dome, followed by the man and Laguna. Sportacus, meanwhile, was dragged the other direction, his eyes trailing the one guard who pulled his knife with all too much eagerness.

\--

The door to his cell slid upwards as Sportacus was chucked inside. He fell onto his knees as he scrambled to stand upright, his chains clattering against the floor.

He turned with an angry look to the two guards, with one tauntingly waving a lock of his formerly long hair at him.  
“Get comfy, blondie! Tonight’s a big night for you, so don’t think of doing anything stupid!” jeered one guard.  
“No worries! If you survive, we have your lovely hair saved right here for you!” taunted the other guard who continued to wave the lock of hair at him.  
Sportacus only frowned as the guards laughed and bellowed, the door to his cell sliding shut.  
Sighing, he gently felt at his ankles, the soreness from the shackles still present in the slight red marks. Blessedly, he’d been relieved of most of his restraints, with only his wrist shackles remaining, but it was still a pale gift in light of everything.  
Reluctantly, his hands traveled up to his head, his chains jingling as he did. He winced as he felt his hair, once long and soft, now rough with the coarseness of newly shorn hair. True, he hadn’t been shaved as he’d feared, but the choppy and short cut still felt alien and wrong atop his scalp, and his neck felt distinctly colder in the stale air of his cell.  
He couldn’t remember the last time he had short hair, possibly because he _never_ had short hair before.  
He looked down wearily before he stood, him scratching idly at the itchy, baggy clothing he was forced to wear. Frowning, he tugged at his chain, feeling for any weak point only to receive a sharp _chink_ in return. The chain held tight. He tugged again and again with the same results.

“Hey, buddy, I’d knock that off if I were you. The guards aren’t known for their patience. Too many tugs will get you a whacking and that’s the last thing you’ll need.”  
Sportacus stopped and looked about. The dim lighting of his cell allowed for little visibility, but he soon spotted the small hole in the wall. He cautiously approached it and leaned against the wall.  
“Have you been here long?” He asked.  
“A few days. Long enough to know that there’s no way you’re getting out of here. The only way out is in pieces, if you’re lucky.” Responded the voice.  
“Where are we?” He asked.  
“You don’t know? This is the Blood Dome, the most infamous battle arena for the criminal underground. This is their form of theatre, and we’re their actors.” Mused the man darkly.  
“I’ve never heard of this place.”  
“You generally hope not to. You either hear about it because you live in a town with plenty of high-profile criminals, or you’re people like us: sacrifices sent up for entertainment.”  
“But that woman…Claudia, I think, she sounded like she was looking for strong warriors. If we’re sacrifices, why does she want people to put up a fight?”  
“Entertainment value. What fun is it watching a warrior beat up some poor soul who couldn’t lift a feather into a pulp? People like watching a fight where there’s a chance of either side winning…or at least the _illusion_ of that.” Answered the man.  
Sportacus felt the weight of the situation sit inside him. He sunk against the wall and slid to the floor.  
“Where are you from, warrior?” asked the man.  
“Alfenheim.” Answered Sportacus.  
“Wow, long way. What brings you out to the Northern lands?”  
“A quest. I was chosen to defeat the Darkness before it could collect itself and be resurrected as the All-Consuming God of Darkness. I was heading to Solstice Peak to collect some of the armor needed.”  
The man whistled.  
“Quite a task then. Sorry you probably won’t live to see it through.”  
Sportacus frowned.  
“And you?” He asked.  
“Small town called Miner’s Crater. I was out tending to my fields when I was grabbed.” The man answered.

He fell quiet.

“They took me so quickly. I couldn’t even tell my wife I loved her before they got me.” He said softly.  
Sportacus’s ears drooped.  
“There’s still a chance. You could see her again.” He said hopefully.  
The man laughed harshly.  
“You’re a hopeful one, elf. Keep that, you’ll need it in the arena.” He said with a sigh.  
Sportacus looked down sadly as he sighed.  
“I have to be hopeful. So many people are counting on me. And even putting them aside, my friend needs me. He’s somewhere in here…”  
Sportacus’s face grayed.  
“…unless…”  
“Is he another warrior?”  
“Uh well,” Sportacus started. “it’s complicated but he’s, um, a sword.”  
“A sword.” Responded the man flatly. “Well, uh, he’s probably fine. They don’t throw away the weapons. I hear they keep them for the fights up above. You’ll see him again…if you survive.”  
Sportacus gaze dropped to his shackles. Experimentally, he rubbed at one of the keyholes, only to receive a small shock in return.

Enchanted shackles, of course.

Sportacus, finally feeling tired, closed his eyes as he laid back against the wall, the rocks cold against his newly exposed neck.  
“ _Goddess, grant me strength._ ” He thought dolefully. “ _I need you more than ever. Please help me survive long enough to save Robbie, Loftskip, and the rest of the country. Please._ ”  
He looked up at the skylight above him, which allowed the only dim lighting in his cell. Dust floated in the pale, yellow light.  
He sighed.  
“If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get.” He muttered to himself as he closed his eyes again.

\--

When Sportacus awoke, his ears were instantly assaulted with the din of raucous cries and clapping.

He forced one eye open as he heard metal sliding and clanging in the room next to him. His mind took a moment to catch up, and he soon realized what was happening. He scrambled to the little hole he’d spoken to the farmer through.  
“Come on! Stop stalling! You have an audience to entertain!” He heard a guard bark, accompanied by chains clattering and clanking.  
A minute later, and his neighbor’s door fell shut, the noise echoing through the halls.  
Sportacus ran to the door and he listened closely, the sounds of the guards’ footsteps fading away. Within minutes, the noise above him rose until he heard the entire arena above him burst into roaring cheers.  
He ran to the skylight and peered up above, his ears trained to listen.  
“And now for our next contestant! Hailing from the puny berg of Miner’s Crater, this man is a hulking farmer with a thirst for blood! Give it up for the Dirt Digger!”

The audience instantly broke out into boos and jeers. Sportacus could hear things being thrown and some liquid, most likely beer, splashed and dripped through the skylight, spattering his face.  
As he wiped away the spill, the announcer spoke again.  
“And once again representing our fair lady and lord in the ring, give it up one more time for the Scourge of Widow’s Wail!”  
The crowd roared with joyous cheers.  
He heard the sound of chains clattering to the ground.  
“Enough time! Let the fight begin!” shouted the announcer.  
A bell was rung, and the crowd’s cheering echoed loudly through his cell. Sportacus watched and listened as he heard a man, his neighbor, yell and charge away.  
From where he was, he could hear a struggle, the cracking of bones and the curses of both parties. He cringed, the sounds were somehow worse when he couldn’t see anything.  
The grunting and shouting broke down until only one voice remained, his voice strained and shrieking in pain and despair.  
“Finish him, Scourge!” encouraged the announcer.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
His neighbor screamed one last time.

A blood-chilling _crack_ silenced his scream.

Sportacus’s face grew white as the audience broke into enthusiastic cheers.  
“Well, he didn’t last long! And our beloved Scourge’s record remained untainted! Bring out the next challenger!” laughed the announcer.  
Almost on cue, Sportacus’s cell door slid open and his chain grew taught.  
“Come on, blondie! It’s showtime!” cackled his guard as he yanked him harshly.  
Sportacus had no choice but to follow as he stumbled forward. He was led out of his cell and down the dark and damp hallway, the smell of fresh blood permeating every square inch of the foul and unpleasant place. The guards continuously yanked him forward when he’d look back at the cry or plea for mercy from another prisoner.  
The portcullis was opened, and the hallway was flooded with blinding light. Sportacus squinted and his ears pinned back as he was shoved into the open arena, the floor turning from cold stone to sand beneath him.  
The audience roared at the sight of him, and as Sportacus finally opened his eyes, he gawked at the sheer magnitude and size of the crowd.  
Dear goddess, there must’ve been _hundreds_ , perhaps _thousands_ of people in attendance, and all of them were eager to see his blood spilled across the arena ground.  
Directly across from him, on the other end of the arena, he could barely see Claudia and her husband seated in a fancy, silk lined booth. They both watched him passively.  
He felt something prod his back and he took another step forward.  
“For our next challenger, we have a true treat for you all tonight! He’s an exotic rarity, hailing all the way from the Southern lands. Yes, your eyes aren’t tricking you, he’s an elven beast with no mercy! Put your hands together for the Blonde Menace!”  
The crowd booed once more, and soon Sportacus was assaulted with all manner of projectiles, from bottles to steins to food. A half-eaten tomato slapped him across his wounded cheek, adding to his humiliation.  
“Will _he_ be the one to end our Scourge’s beautifully unmatched reign? We shall see but, to be honest, I’m not holding my breath!” stated the announcer with a bellowing laugh.

The bell rung once more, and Sportacus’s chains clattered off his wrists.

Across the arena, surrounded by sand turned to mud by the sheer volume of blood staining it, stood a man who must’ve reached over six feet tall. Each of his limbs were built like tree trunks, and it instantly brought to Sportacus’s mind his old friend Kilgrim. Of course, Kilgrim was a jolly man, while Scourge seemed nothing but unpleasant. He was decorated with battle tattoos and scars from countless matches and his grin revealed a tooth or two missing.  
“Heh, titchy man. I’ll snap you like a twig.” Scourge chuckled before he charged forward, him brandishing two axes.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened as he eyed the man charging at him full speed. Taking a breath, he swung his arms back and leapt up into the air, flipping forward before landing behind Scourge.  
Scourge, so driven in his quest to cleave Sportacus in half, slammed straight into the wall as he failed to catch Sportacus’s dodge. The wall cracked and rattled as the heavy and bulky Scourge planted against it.  
The audience gasped and continued to cheer as Scourge turned around.  
He growled and swung his arm over, aiming the axe straight at Sportacus’s head.  
Sportacus, in response, jumped into a side tumble, with him rolling back into a crouch.  
“Hold still or fight, Blonde Menace!” barked Scourge as he side swung his axes at him.  
Sportacus leapt up, pulling his knees to his chest, and landed atop Scourge’s axes.  
The warrior, laughing, flipped his axe like a frying pan, sending Sportacus up into the air.

Which, unfortunately for Scourge, only gave Sportacus the opportunity to land a backflip with a kick straight to his face.  
Scourge cursed loudly and staggered back, him letting go of one of his axes to clutch his nose.  
“Don’t give up, Scourge! Don’t let this foolish outsider defeat you!” shouted the announcer.  
Scourge growled as he glared at Sportacus.  
“No worries. I won’t let this last another minute.” He grumbled as he grabbed his axes again.  
Startling Sportacus, Scourge wildly swung his axes around as he screamed and bellowed. The axe heads bore themselves over and over into the sand, with Sportacus narrowly dodging with his feet dancing a quickstep.   
With an infuriated yell, Scourge suddenly swung the flat side of one of his axes and, finally, clocked Sportacus right in the chest.  
Sportacus gasped as he was flung back into the wall, his head whacking against the stone.  
“Finish him, Scourge!” the announcer encouraged excitedly.  
Scourge spat a mouthful of blood as he grinned and approached Sportacus.  
“End of the road for you, elf boy.” He taunted as he adjusted his grip on his axe.  
Sportacus stared at him dazedly, the direness of the situation settling in. If he didn’t do something fast, he’d be chopped into stew meat in under a minute.

As crude as it was, there was only one solution: launching himself with his arms from the wall, he threw his legs forward and aimed his heel straight at the warrior’s goods.

Scourge’s pupils shrunk to pinpoints as he howled in absolute pain, his grip instantly failing and his axes collapsing to the sand.  
As he collapsed onto his knees, Sportacus elbowed him once more in the face, aiming at his already damaged nose. Scourge buckled into himself and clutched at his pained areas.  
Sportacus leapt around the warrior, his eyes darting around the arena for some kind of weapon. Unfortunately, the aforementioned wall of weapons had yet to present itself. His opponent gaining his bearings, Sportacus knew he was running out of time.  
His eyes fell upon the chains that once bound him, now carelessly left lying on the arena floor. He leapt for them and grabbed them. Giving one look to the warrior, he threw the chain around the warrior’s neck and pulled back.  
Instantly Scourge’s hands leapt to his throat, his fingers clawing feverishly at the metal chain that bore into his neck.  
Sportacus pulled back, sweat rolling down his forehead.  
“Scourge! Relent! You’ve lost the battle!” He stated.  
Scourge continued to grunt and struggle. His skin was starting to turn from red to purple.  
“S-Scourge! Please! Give up! I don’t want to kill you!” Sportacus begged.  
“T-To die at this point,” Scourge gasped angrily. “would be more admirable than to lose to the likes of _you_.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and, nervous, he shook his head. He loosened his grip on the chain and, instead, ran forward and punched Scourge one more time in the temple.  
The gigantic warrior slumped over to his right and collapsed onto the sand, his body going still.

The audience clamored and murmured, with several boos erupting throughout the arena.

Sportacus looked towards the fancy booth. Even from where he was he could see the rather surprised reactions of Laguna, Claudia, and Claudia’s husband. All three had stood from their seats and looked in shock.  
“T-This is unprecedented ladies and gentlemen!” stammered the announcer. “Our dear Scourge has…lost?!”  
The audience immediately began to boo and throw things again into the arena. A few guards hustled into the arena and, with some pointing spears at Sportacus to keep him away, hauled away the unconscious Scourge to the safety of a side room.

The announcer hopped off his platform and scurried towards Claudia.  
“Lady Claudia, which of our warriors should we send in next? I-I’ll admit I wasn’t prepared for one of our ‘contestants’ to actually _win_.” He asked.  
Claudia looked at him calmly and fluttered her fan.  
“Hmm, he is quite a fighter, isn’t he? We could have him fight another round…” She said thoughtfully. “…or, well, it’d be a shame to have him hurt or killed. Perhaps we should end his turn right now and keep him.”  
She looked at her husband with a knowing look. Her husband looked at her with shock and, upon realizing that she was serious, began to burn with jealous anger. His glare snapped towards the announcer who had stepped back onto his platform.  
“Oh well. I guess you could have him fight _one_ more champion.” Claudia said wistfully.  
“Very well! We shall bring on the next of our champions then! Bring in – “  
“He will fight _two_ of our champions this round!” barged Claudia’s husband as he nearly shoved the announcer off his platform.  
The audience immediately was abuzz with excitement.  
The announcer looked at him with surprise.  
“Lord Hamish, do you mean it? You want to send out _two_ of our champions?” He asked in a hushed voice. “Couldn’t that possibly be…overkill?”  
“The bastard can handle it.” Lord Hamish muttered. “And if he can’t, then at least I have one less man to worry about.”  
The announcer nodded slowly before he turned back to the audience.  
“Then it’s settled! Send in _two_ of our champions!” He stated.  
The audience cheered and roared as Lord Hamish returned to his seat. He sat up tall, cocky and proud as his gaze fixed upon the arena with morbid anticipation.  
Lady Claudia, meanwhile, simply chuckled to herself. Her husband was quite easy to upset, especially when it came to the rather handsome contestants they would occasionally capture.

It was like a game. Push a few buttons and she got the reaction she wanted. She looked back at the arena as she heard the next set of challengers’ weapons clanking against the stone hallways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So story about this chapter is it ended up SUPER long so it's been split into two parts. The next half should be posted either later on tonight or tomorrow so keep an eye out for it!
> 
> Also, RIP Sportacus's long hair. Is it pathetic that I got sad writing that part? XD
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	18. The Arena Pt. 2

A side gate was winched up and, from the shadows, Sportacus saw his next two opponents, both as intimidating as Scourge before them. The first was another man, his hair chopped into a short mohawk, his face caked with various markings and streaks. The second was a woman, her hair also cut into a choppy cut, with a rather painful burn scar that stretched over a quarter of her face.  
The couple stormed out into the arena, their teeth fixed into menacing grins as they roared and whooped, stirring the crowd into a frenzy. The man thumped his fist against his chest as he hoisted his club into the air. The woman crossed her arms and laughed proudly.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes upon these marvels of combat excellence! Once a weak and scrawny couple, this husband and wife team have climbed the rungs of our arena to become some of the most feared warriors throughout our country! Put your hands together for Vulture and Ocelot, the terrors of the Eastern Valley!”  
The audience roared with anticipation as the bell was rung once more.  
“W-Wait! The wall of weapons! I heard there was a wall of weapons!” Sportacus protested, his gaze darting to the booth.  
“You’ll earn your weapons eventually! You haven’t proven yourself yet, _blondie_.” Sneered Hamish with a gleeful gaze.  
Before Sportacus could argue, he was suddenly knocked off his feet and sent flying across the ground, his chest burning with pain and his lungs suddenly emptied, which left him gasping for a breath as he staggered to his feet.  
The man smirked as he approached Sportacus at an intimidatingly slow pace, his club swinging casually by his side.  
“Lesson number one, elf: never take your eyes off your opponent! If you do, you’ll earn another blow like that one, and I bet it was plenty painful.” The man stated with a chuckle.  
Sportacus stumbled slightly as he regained his footing, his eyes darting around the arena. He cursed internally as he noticed that the chain he used earlier had been taken away after Scourge was removed, leaving him short of any sort of weapons.  
His gaze fixed back upon the man and he prepared his fists. He ran forward only to feel a sharp pain dig at his side, one that pulled a cry from his throat and sent him stumbling to the side.  
The woman, her sword painted with a streak of fresh blood, shook her head.  
“Lesson number two: always keep your wits about you! There may be only us three in the arena, but you should never let down your guard.” She laughed as she spun her sword in her hand.

Sportacus staggered away, his hand pressed into the fresh gash in his side. He pulled his hand away for only a moment, him wincing as he glanced as his blood-stained palm. Clutching his side and with a tilted stance, he fixed his gaze upon the two warriors, his ears tilting about to listen.  
The man looked at his wife, his gaze startlingly fond and soft given the situation.  
“Well Ocelot? Are you ready to paint the ground red with this stranger?” He asked.  
“Always, my love.” Responded Ocelot with a smile.  
Bingo.  
Sportacus, gritting his teeth, charged forward. Leaping up into the air, Sportacus let go of his bleeding side and aimed his hands at Vulture’s face. Vulture turned just in time for Sportacus to sink his fingernails into Vulture’s temples and cheeks, with Sportacus trying to pull the warrior off his balance.  
“Ow! You bloody animal!” shouted Vulture.  
Sportacus dug his nails as deep as he could before he let go, allowing himself to fall to the ground, his back harshly hitting the ground. He laid on his back for only a moment, just long enough for Vulture to glare at him, fresh cuts across his face.  
“Playing dirty, huh? Low of you, _elf_.” He growled.  
Vulture screamed as he lifted his club and sunk it down, throwing his whole body weight forward as he aimed for Sportacus’s head.  
Sportacus sucked in a breath and threw himself upright and into a forward roll, him rolling between the warrior’s legs and back onto his feet.

As he stood, he ducked just in time to barely miss being cleaved by Ocelot’s sword. He jumped back as he stood, dodging a stab from her that tore his shirt’s sleeve.  
Ocelot growled as she spun her sword again, preparing another strike.  
Sportacus’s eyes flitted to his torn sleeve, an idea popping into his mind. In one swift motion he tore off his sleeve and twisted the ends around his palms, forming a band between them. He held the fabric in front of him as he stared her down.  
Ocelot quirked an eyebrow and laughed.  
“You must be desperate to use a rag against my sword.” She chuckled as she lunged.  
Sportacus feigned to the left, his arms lifting. He glided forward, simultaneously taking the scrap of shirt fabric and popping it against her wrist, stopping the blade. He drew the fabric back and, whipping it out, struck Ocelot’s eyes.  
The warrior yelped as the rough edge of the fabric grazed her corneas, with Sportacus kicking her in the stomach as he reached for her eyes. Distracted, her sword slipped from her grip.  
Sportacus immediately scrambled for her weapon, with him grabbing it just in time to be thrown once again to the ground, a scream escaping him as he felt something crack from the force of Vulture’s club.

Groaning, Sportacus stumbled onto his feet as he heard the crowd cheer louder. He looked up as an enraged Vulture approached him.  
He glanced off to the side and saw Ocelot clamber onto her feet, murder in her eyes.  
At the same time, a wave of aching pain resonated from his chest and threatened to send Sportacus curling in on himself.  
He needed to end the fight. _Now_.  
He held the sword in front of him as he turned a defiant gaze to Vulture.  
Vulture shouted as he swung his club again, with Sportacus dodging just barely as he slashed at the warrior’s thigh, drawing a deep line that oozed blood.  
Vulture reached for his bleeding thigh as Sportacus rose behind him. He whacked Vulture in the back of the head with his sword’s pommel, earning him a curse from the warrior.  
The warrior roared as he swung his club back, with Sportacus, not thinking, swinging his sword in return.  
Club met sword, and the club won. The sword snapped in half, leaving Sportacus a jagged stump of a blade attached to his handle.  
Vulture grinned and swung again, nearly grazing the top of Sportacus’s head as he blindly stabbed forward, digging the remains of his sword into Vulture’s side.  
Vulture’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he shrieked and collapsed to his knees, his club slipping from his grasp. His hands feverishly fumbled at his side where the blade still remained, dug into his skin just hitting the muscle but missing anything vital.  
Sportacus yanked away his club.  
“I’m sorry, Vulture. I didn’t want to do this, but I had no choice. Do you yield?” He asked with labored breath, pointing the club at his adversary.

Vulture’s face paled, before his expression snapped to one of joy. Before Sportacus could question this, he felt a pair of very strong hands dig into his neck as he was lifted upwards.

Pain and alarm bells jolted his brain as his fingers clumsily dug at the grip around his neck, his head swimming at the restriction of oxygen. He was quickly turned around to face Ocelot, who looked at him with cool anger and a wicked grin.  
“You hurt my husband, elf. I hope you enjoyed it, because it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.” She hissed as she squeezed tighter.  
Sportacus squeaked as the vice shrunk, his vision darkening as he gasped and struggled. He feebly kicked at Ocelot’s ribs, but the power wasn’t there. She simply laughed mockingly as his feet daintily tapped at her sides.  
The cheering of the crowd became a thudding, rhythmic clap in his head as Sportacus began to fade. He wheezed and gasped as Ocelot pulled him close, her breath hot on his face.  
“Say goodnight, elf.” She taunted.  
Sportacus grabbed at her fingers once more, but he couldn’t pry himself loose. With his strength slipping away, he was running out of time. He forced his eyes to stay open as he watched her laugh and beckon the crowd’s cheering. Desperation grew, and his heart was beating still out of his chest.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped her wrists and, in one swift motion, threw his head forehead and clunked his against hers.

The sound was like two rocks slamming together and instantly Ocelot’s grip failed. She fell back as Sportacus fell to the ground butt first, the last oxygen in his lungs evacuating at the jolt of meeting the ground. As he gasped and breathed, he looked over at Ocelot, who despite sitting upright, looked dazed and rather distant.  
Taking advantage of the situation, Sportacus pulled his leg back to his chest and kicked at the space between her collarbone, which sent Ocelot slapping against the ground, her head bouncing on the dirt. She groaned once before her body went limp, her eyes falling shut.  
Sportacus still panted as he stared at Ocelot, watching her chest carefully. His tension slackened once he saw her chest rise and fall. He glanced back to check on Vulture; indeed, he was alive too, albeit curled into himself to stifle the waves of pain emanating from the embedded sword.  
He staggered to his feet, his vision darkening and his mind swimming for a moment before he collected himself.  
He cringed and squinted as the audience…cheered.  
In fact, they were _roaring_.  
Chants and calls rang through the arena and Sportacus was overtaken by the spectacle. A few boos still punctuated the jubilations, yet they were mostly swept over by the applause. Sportacus, however, could only dazedly look at the throngs of people.  
Their cheering grew quiet as the announcer stepped onto the podium.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are all truly witnessing a first in this arena’s history! This newcomer, this stranger, has bested three of our greatest champions in combat! And, greatest of all, he lived to tell the tale!” He announced, not with joy but more surprise.  
The crowds continued to cheer, their cheers growing louder as Claudia stepped and gently pushed aside the announcer.  
“Well Blonde Menace, you have truly proven yourself a capable fighter in our hallowed halls. I congratulate you and welcome you warmly into the Blood Arena’s Hall of Champions.” She said as she clapped.  
Hamish sat nearby, grimacing and muttering as he clapped reluctantly. Laguna watched Sportacus with a careful eye, her expression unsurprised.  
“And now, to indoctrinate you, we request that you take part in one of our most prized traditions. You see, there’s only so many places within our ranks of champions. Thus, a vacancy must be created.” Claudia explained.

Sportacus looked about nervously as the audience rhythmically clapped and stomped their feet.

“Well elf, pick one. Vulture or Ocelot, both can’t live. _Kill_ the one of your choice and take their honored place amongst our warriors.” Claudia commanded.

Sportacus’s face grew a pale white color, the clapping sweeping over him.  
He shook his head rapidly, with him jumping as he felt something sharp graze his knee.  
He looked down to see Vulture looking up at him with a pained expression. The other broken half of the sword was clutched in his palm.  
“Please, warrior, I must make one request of you. Take me, I was the one who failed today. My wife is a far greater warrior and deserves her place in the arena more than me.” He asked quietly.  
“You fool! Don’t!” Ocelot protested as she forced herself to sit up. “Warrior! Take me! My husband is a powerful man and is a force within this arena. Let me die in his place, please.”  
“My love, please, we’ve talked about this.” Vulture spoke calmly, taking Sportacus’s attention again. “I must die.”  
“I won’t let you!” protested Ocelot, tears brimming in her eyes.  
“P-Please, I – “Sportacus said fearfully.  
“Warrior! Do it! Please! She’ll stop you otherwise!” Vulture begged.  
“You lay a hand on my husband and I’ll end you! Kill me!” Ocelot growled.  
Sportacus’s attention snapped back and forth between the two warriors. The clapping and stomping swelled.  
“Well? What is your choice, elf?” Claudia asked expectantly.  
“I – “Sportacus stuttered before he shook his head. “ – no! This is ridiculous!”  
With a cry, Sportacus chucked the other half of the sword across the arena. He looked at both warriors with a strained look.  
“I refuse to kill either of you! Neither of you have to die!” He protested.  
Much to his surprise, he heard Vulture sigh wearily and shake his head. Ocelot looked at Sportacus with both surprise and unease.  
“How disgraceful.” Stated the announcer disgustedly. “Refusing one warrior their honorable death is one thing, but to do it to _two_? This outsider is making a mockery of our honorable arena!”

The audience jeered and growled, with many of the audience members threatening to spill into the arena as they threatened and spat at Sportacus. A few attendants entered the arena and pulled away the injured Vulture and Ocelot.  
“Very well, elf.” Claudia said with a darkened look. “If you refuse to take your place and _honor_ our arena’s customs, then we have no choice but to have you fight again.”  
She snapped her fingers.  
“Unleash the monster and unveil the wall of weapons.” She said as she snapped her fan and returned to her seat.  
Lord Hamish grinned in anticipation.  
The announcer nodded and cleared his throat.  
“Unveil the wall of weapons!” He shouted.  
Sportacus staggered back as the ground shook and rumbled. His eyes darted up as the wall furthest away from him spun a full 180 degrees, revealing its other side. This other side was completely decked out with weapons of all kinds, all makes, all materials, and all levels of skill required. Spears, bats, axes, flails, maces, bows and arrows, hammers, daggers, swords, and more were fixed to the wall with metal fasteners at varying heights and ease of reach.  
Sportacus’s eyes scanned the wall, his gaze expectant.  
He stopped once he noticed the only weapon squirming and wiggling on the wall.  
“Robbie!” shouted Sportacus as he ran towards the wall.  
“Sportacus! You’re okay!” Robbie shouted back, his squirming ceasing momentarily.  
Sportacus picked up the pace as he sprinted across the arena, his gaze fixed upon his friend.

This ended abruptly, however, with the snap of fingers and the blitz of hot light. His vision was temporarily blinded by light blue, and his limbs, rather suddenly, refused to move despite his commands.

His vision clearing, his gaze drifted up to the wall. Laguna stood there, her hands illuminated as she wagged her finger.  
“That’s cheating, Blond Menace. Wait for the bell.” She said simply.  
Sportacus attempted to wiggle away, but the magic held strong. He shot a look at the mage, who simply ignored him. He sufficed with looking back towards Robbie as he watched his friend attempt to free himself.  
“Robbie, are you okay? Can you free yourself?” asked Sportacus with a slightly lower voice.  
Robbie sighed harshly.  
“I’m fine, but I can’t. These fasteners are pretty tight.” He said.  
“Magic? How about that?”  
“Can’t. They enchanted the fasteners. I’m stuck until whatever that bell the rag wizard mentioned rings.” He stated with a sharp voice.  
Sportacus frowned and bit his lip.  
Robbie paused, his voice dipping.  
“Wait…you’re bleeding.” He said.  
“I’ll be fine.” Sportacus said quickly with a strained smile. “Don’t worry, just hold on, I’ll get you free. As soon as this hold drops.”  
“I’m worried about _you_ , Sportadork.” Robbie said.  
“Don’t, it’s okay.” Sportacus said, his smile remaining.

“Hold on tight, my friends! We will continue with our entertainment in a moment. But first, we have a set of beautiful gifts to give to our lovely arena owners, Lord Hamish and Lady Claudia!” said the announcer as two attendants strolled on over to the lavish booth.  
Sportacus’s gaze drifted up and, upon seeing the gifts, his pupils shrunk with shock and anger.  
He could see, just barely from where he was, the blessed gauntlets and circlet laid upon silk pillows that the attendants carried. The announcer gestured towards the couple as the audience clapped politely.  
“For our mighty Lord Hamish, a pair of stunningly beautiful gold gauntlets!” said the announcer.  
Lord Hamish grinned wildly as he slipped a gauntlet on his right hand. He laughed as he admired his hand, him turning his hand back and forth.  
“And for our beautiful Lady Claudia, a lovely gold circlet with a sapphire feature!” continued the announcer as the attendant slipped the circlet on the lady’s head. She fluttered her fan and smiled politely.  
Sportacus stared at the two with irritation, this latest event to him feeling like an additional slap in the face after all the humiliation he and Robbie have already had to contend with. He knew he needed to get his armor back, but the wall that surrounded the arena’s battle ground was very high, almost too high for him to leap. Even if he could leap it, he still had to figure out a way to knock out Laguna, who would certainly foil any attempts of his to escape. With his present injuries on top of it all, Sportacus could feel the very notable sense of hopelessness build in his stomach, which he knew he had to ignore.

So distracted was he by his planning that he nearly missed the rumbling that filled the arena and sent an unnerving feeling through his veins.  
“And now, something completely different, ladies and gentlemen. This next opponent that our blonde disgrace will face is no man or woman. It’s not human nor elf. No, it is nothing you’ve seen before, neither animal or mineral. This is a beast of a different time, a different era. The last of its species, a creation from before the great clash between our Goddess and the God of Darkness, something so beautiful and terrifying I beg you all to hold onto your seats.” The announcer continued as the arena continued to shake.  
The audience, usually crazed and wild, seemed subdued and nervous, with many eying the exits as the stomping and rumbling grew louder.  
Sportacus’s eyes fell to the side gate, which was far larger than the other gates. Several guards on the other side were frantically working to open the gate, with many drawing their weapons and taking a defensive stance. The portcullis creaked and slid upwards, dripping streams of sand back down onto the ground.  
Laguna let down her magic, which sent Sportacus falling to the ground. With a grunt, he stood back up, looking over again just in time to watch the spectacle.  
Three people, dressed in baggy, ragged clothes like his, ran out into the arena with terror painted across their faces. The first, a man with a ratty beard and hairstyle. The second, an older woman with gray streaks through her hair.  
The third, and the most alarming of them all, was a girl no older than nine. Her dark black hair was tied into three pigtails that flopped about as she ran.

Following immediately upon their heels came a foot, clawed, long, and scaly the size of a wagon if not bigger. Another similar foot followed and, before long, the beast unveiled its monstrous head. Its snout was long and blunt with jagged teeth poking between its gums. A pair of yellow eyes with slit pupils darting around as it opened its maw and bellowed a shrieking roar. It clambered out of its tunnel, body long and cat-like, with its tail whipping around like a dying fish. Its manes, three in total layered over each other red, yellow, and blue flared with its anger, part of its volume cut off by a bulking, iron collar that attached it to an unknown point far down the tunnel. To complete the monstrousness of the beast were three horns jutting from its forehead, all spiraling and long, like a sort of terrifying unicorn monster.  
Before the announcer could even speak or the bell could ring, the monster stomped its foot down, shaking the arena and eclipsing the man under its reach. When it lifted its foot, not even the essence of the man could be discerned.  
“Gruesome, isn’t it? A savage creation of a time long passed! I dare you to survive a fight with _this_ beast, Blonde Menace! Begin the fight!” cried the announcer as the bell rung.

Before Sportacus could even react, all the air in his lungs was shoved out as the beast swung its gigantic tail and swept Sportacus aside.  
He crashed against the ground and rolled roughly, coming to a stop several feet away. He groaned and forced himself onto his arms. He looked up with a pained expression as the beast opened its gargantuan maw and howled, its eyes wide and crazed.  
Sportacus’s gaze shot towards the weapons wall, back to where Robbie hung. He threw himself onto his feet and made a mad dash towards the rack.  
His heart beat in his ears as he ran, his feet screaming and his side aching as he dashed. Mere feet away, however, his view was blocked as the beast surged forward, the chains attached to its collar jangling.  
It roared and snapped at Sportacus, with the elf just barely stopping before he fell into the monster’s mouth. Falling back onto his butt, Sportacus scuttled rapidly as the monster stalked forward and snapped its teeth repeatedly, almost playing with its prey.  
The woman who had helped lead the beast away clung to the wall with the little girl, both watching the beast with pale expressions. The girl’s gaze, however, fell to Sportacus, and she watched him struggle.  
Her breath caught, the girl frowned and stood up tall. She dashed away from the woman and sharply whistled.  
“Hey, ugly! Look, it’s your dinner! Come get me!” She shouted as she waved her arms.  
The beast’s attention snapped towards the girl and it lowly growled. It bounded away from Sportacus, its attention on the sprinting and panting little girl.  
Sportacus’s pupils shrunk and his instincts screamed at him to save the little girl. As he got up, however, the girl shouted back at him.  
“Hey! Mister! Grab something from the wall and quick!” She barked.  
Ah. Sportacus knew now this was all deliberate.  
He nodded and ran the rest of the way towards the wall.  
His gaze scanned the wall rapidly and soon found Robbie once again. Sportacus stopped right below him and, throwing his arms back, he leapt as high as he could into the air. His fingers dug desperately at the wall and, just barely, he gained purchase on Robbie’s handle.

He yanked roughly and, restraints snapping, he fell back to the ground with Robbie in tow.

The crowd was going crazy as Sportacus collected himself and checked that he indeed grabbed Robbie. His friend laid on the ground next to him.  
“Robbie! Are you okay?” He asked as he picked him up.  
“I’m better now that I’m off that wall.” Robbie grumbled. “What’s the plan? How are we escaping?”  
“We’re not escaping until we defeat that beast.” Sportacus stated firmly.  
“Right, yes, that’s what I meant. What’s the plan to defeat the monster?” Robbie said quickly.  
The beast’s roar drew Sportacus’s attention away from planning. He looked back in time to see the pigtailed girl trip and fall to the ground, the monster’s paws caging her in reach of its jaws.  
Sportacus gritted his teeth and held Robbie up.  
“We’re playing it by ear. First, we get that creature’s attention back on us.” He said.  
“Right. Please don’t get eaten.”  
“Not trying to.” Said Sportacus as he sprinted forward.  
As he ran, he could see the girl tremble, the monster’s spit dripping and forming a puddle next to her. He prepared his blade and lifted him above his head. As the monster’s leg drew close, he swung down and drew a long gash down its calf.  
The creature screamed and twisted, its teeth nipping and snapping at the space above Sportacus.  
Sportacus, in turn, turned on his heel and ran the other direction.  
The monster, forgetting the girl, ran and chased after Sportacus, its eyes full of rage and its mouth watering.  
Sportacus’s feet pounded at the ground as he sprinted, his attention fixing upon the wall in front of him. Steeling himself, he ran straight at the wall and ran upwards, the balls of his feet digging into the rough surface. Right as his balance shifting back, he pushed off the wall, flipping backwards as the monster crashed into the wall, leaving gigantic cracks throughout the entire structure. Sportacus, flying through the air, fell atop the monster’s back, his sword at the ready.

The monster’s pupils shrunk once he felt Sportacus upon its back. Thrashing, it bucked and howled, throwing its hackles and back up and down in an attempt to throw him. Sportacus, as much as he could, hung on for dear life, his hands grasping at huge handles of the beast’s fur. The monster shrieked and gave one last, strong buck, this one doing the trick. Sportacus gasped as he was flung back down the beast’s spine, his hands flailing at the monster’s fur. He dug and grabbed, and just narrowly managed to grab a tuft of fur at its hind leg, his body swinging like a pendulum as he held on.  
Clinging desperately, Sportacus jabbed his sword into the monster’s leg, earning another cry from the creature. He clung to the handle as he pulled and climbed his way back up, the creature still wriggling and bucking as he did.  
Back on the creature’s back, Sportacus held on as he caught his breath, his wounded side searing and burning at the exertion. His eyes drifted up and he caught the fancy booth where the lord and lady sat. Much to his surprise, however, neither looked like they were having a good time.  
In fact, before he could question anything, a high-pitched shriek echoed out from Hamish.  
Attendants rushed to the side of the man as he desperately dug and pulled at the gauntlet on his hand. At the same time Claudia uttered shrieking cries as she dug at the circlet.  
“It’s burning! _It’s burning_!” screamed Hamish, his skin visibly turning from red to a darkened gray.  
Sportacus watched with a horrified look as Hamish continued to feverishly fight, a sizzling sound rising in the air. He looked over as Claudia cried out in anger and pain, her successfully ripping the burning circlet off her head. A red ring was seared around her head, burning off much of her hair and leaving an unpleasant smell in the air. The circlet slipped from her fingers and bounced down the booth, off the wall, and into the arena.  
His eyes widened as he watched where the circlet fell. He looked back up, however, when he heard an especially strangled scream from Hamish. The lord was far less lucky than his wife as the gauntlet sprung free from him, taking his hand with him. The attendants rushed to his side with various clothes and rags to stifle his now excessive bleeding stump of an arm.  
Said gauntlet joined the circlet on the arena floor, with Sportacus scrambling over to see where it fell.

His attention snapped back to the creature, who was currently twisting and snapping desperately to get him off its back. He looked back at his gear and, biting his lip, he nodded.  
“Are we getting off this ride?” asked Robbie.  
“Yup. Hold on.” Sportacus said as he swung his legs forward and slid down the monster’s side.  
He tumbled onto the ground and scrambled over towards the armor pieces. He first grabbed the circlet and slipped it back onto his head, him temporarily forgetting how horribly the circlet burned Claudia.  
He waited a moment. Nothing happened.  
“ _Okay, good, no burning. I wonder what happened?_ ” He thought as he grabbed the lone gauntlet.  
He nearly slipped on the gauntlet before he hesitated. Glancing inside, he grimaced. Carefully, he reached within the gauntlet and tugged out Hamish’s severed hand and forearm.  
“That’s just gross.” Robbie said sickly.  
“Yeah, yikes.” Sportacus said as he cringed. He tossed the hand away and slipped the gauntlet back on.  
As he turned around, Sportacus was rocked back onto his back as the creature finally spotted him and stomped its front feet. Sportacus stared in shock as the creature snapped and surged forward, its teeth inches away from his chest.  
Sportacus quickly grabbed Robbie and swung at the creature’s nose, drawing a thin line across its nose.  
The creature reared back and prepared to stomp on Sportacus.  
Then, it stopped, and shrieked in pain.  
Sportacus looked over with surprise. The little girl was standing behind the creature’s hind leg, clutching the broken piece of sword from earlier, now stained with blood. The girl jabbed it again into the creature’s leg.  
Taking advantage of the moment, Sportacus got back onto his feet and, with a running start, leapt onto the creature’s side and climbed back onto its back. He crawled quickly along its back and up towards its neck, being careful to avoid the iron collar.

As he passed it, however, he felt a strange sensation creep through his body.

“Huh? What was that?” He questioned as he looked back at the collar.  
Carefully, he hovered his hand over the collar, and the same sensation ran through his hand.  
“ _Magic. The collar is cursed, but why? Isn’t the collar enough?_ ” thought Sportacus as he lifted Robbie up.  
“Come on, Sportacus! Let’s stop the creature before it eats us!” stated Robbie.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“No, hold on, I think something’s wrong. There’s something up with the collar.” He said.  
“What?!”  
“The collar, I think there’s a curse on it or something! Maybe we shouldn’t kill the creature!”  
“The creature is minutes away from making us his dinner, _why_ shouldn’t we kill it??” Robbie gasped.  
“Because maybe this creature isn’t attacking us because it wants to! Maybe something’s _making_ it attack us!” said Sportacus as he felt the collar with his armored hand.  
“Well, what do you want to do?”  
“I want…I want…” Sportacus said anxiously as he ran a hand through his hair. “I…I _don’t_ want to kill it…”  
“Then what?” Robbie questioned.  
He shook his head.  
“I don’t know.” He admitted.  
Robbie paused, then tilted himself to look at the monster.  
He listened to it shriek, how it seemed to shiver with every jangle of the collar. He thought carefully.  
“Sportacus,” He said calmly. “place your hands in its mane.”  
“W-What?”  
“Just trust me, you have the blessed armor on now. Maybe we’ll get an answer from the goddess?” Robbie suggested.  
“You think that’ll work?”  
“It’s better than nothing! And we’re running out of time!”  
“R-Right! Okay, hold on.”

Sportacus, carefully, knelt down onto the creature’s neck, with one hand clutching a fistful of one of the creature’s manes. He stopped and took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. As he exhaled, he buried his hand deep in the creature’s soft, downy hair. He felt at its skin, and he listened closely for its pulse.  
He listened. He prodded.  
“ _Please, tell me, what can I do._ ” Sportacus begged quietly.  
He waited. Something built within him.  
Suddenly, he was overcome by that familiar feeling, that burning yet powerful feeling that he’d felt so many times before.  
The audience saw his circlet shine with light, and the sapphire blaze a bright blue.  
On the beast, Sportacus could feel it grow still.  
“ _Beast, please, I don’t wish to kill you._ ” Spoke Sportacus and the voice.  
In his mind, he heard a voice, feeble and tired.  
“ _It hurts…_ ”  
“ _What hurts_?”  
“ _The collar…please, help me. I can’t control myself._ ” The beast’s thoughts spoke back.  
Sportacus nodded then, carefully, he stood up.  
His eyes opened, revealing the golden glow they held. Hamish, woozy from blood loss, and Claudia jumped back in shock and awe, their faces paling. Claudia looked to Laguna and snapped her fingers expectantly. The stunned Laguna nodded and ran forward, her hands glowing a bright blue color once more.  
Sportacus looked over as his arm glowed blue and lifted on its own. He frowned, then glared at the mage.  
“ _Enough of this._ ” He spoke simply as he wrenched his arm back.  
Laguna gasped as she was pulled forward, her own magic aura rebelling against her and falling to the whim of the goddess. She shrieked as she fell into the arena, falling flat on her face. As she dragged herself onto her knees, she looked up in time to see the creature’s tail swing towards her and slam her against the wall. She fell back, limply, onto the ground.  
Hamish and Claudia watched in shock as Sportacus looked down at the collar and dragged Robbie upwards. Taking a breath, he exhaled as he drove the blade down and into the collar.  
The metal collar creaked and groaned, golden light spilling into every crack and break that formed on its surface. It burned and seethed, before it finally fell away, the pieces clattering onto the ground.

Hamish’s eyes shrunk.  
“That’s…not good.” He said uneasily.  
“Agreed.” Said Claudia quietly as she flicked her fan. “Let’s get out of here.”  
The two owners hastily made their escape through the doorway.

The creature, now free of its restraints, blinked its eyes and looked furiously at the gaping audience, who suddenly looked very uneasy and frightened.  
The creature opened its mouth and roared with a ground-shaking roar. The little girl on the ground stared in shock as she scrambled away from the creature’s legs.  
The light left Sportacus suddenly, pooling away up into the air. Sportacus gasped and collapsed back onto his knees. He looked up wearily as the creature stomped about, its attention driven towards a rapidly vacating part of the arena, its ears wiggling and its snout dropping. Its tail swung about, knocking down whole bleachers and parts of the retaining walls. It dug at the ground with its claws, and Sportacus soon knew what it was planning to do.  
“Robbie! The little girl!” said Sportacus as he lifted his friend.  
Robbie looked down and quickly spotted the young girl and the woman.  
“ _Levitate!_ ” He shouted, his gemstone glowing.  
The little girl and the woman gasped as they were surrounded by a purple light, both flying forward and onto the creature’s back.  
“Everyone hold on! Grab some mane! This is going to get bumpy!” shouted Sportacus as he braced himself against the monster’s mane.  
The creature roared and sprinted forward, its head down and horns pointed at the wall. All three riders held on for dear life as it barreled forward, the arena now nearly empty.

With one mighty, bone-shaking crash, the wall of the arena crumbled as the monster crashed forward, the ceiling creaking and collapsing behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lesson learned: if you're a nasty person, don't put on a gauntlet blessed by a goddess who's the complete antithesis.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	19. The Assassins

The creature burst out into the night in a flurry of crumbling rock and dust, the arena groaning and folding as its feet met the dirt outside.

People were running for the hills, all their faces painted with distress and terror. Several attempted to mount the horses waiting in the stables, but most simply went on foot, running in all levels of garb out into the harsh wilderness to who knows where.  
Sportacus only lifted his head once he felt the cool night breeze blow across his head and neck, sending shivers down his body. He looked back in time to watch the main structures of the dome fold inwards on itself, crumbling into a heap of dust and broken stone and metal. Bursts of flames and smoke erupted from parts of the structure, leftover from torches and other sources of light once inside.  
He looked forward again right as the beast galloped and leapt over a set of boulders and jagged rock edges, directing itself towards the east with its claws digging into the rock and moss. It ran and ran, vast lengths of land rushing past at an incredible speed as it did.  
Sportacus looked back to check on the girl and woman. Both clung to the beast with frightened yet mystified gazes, the woman in particular looking around in awe.  
The beast continued for what seemed like miles, bounding over rocks and fields. Rivers and gullies were mere cracks in the earth as they leapt and jumped. It only stopped once it was an incredible distance away from the ruins of the arena, the rocky ground turning soft and more silt-like beneath its grand paws.

The air no longer rushing past their ears, the group looked about in wonder at their surroundings. At that moment, the beast decided to sit, thus unceremoniously disembarking its passengers, with the three rolling rather roughly onto the sandy ground.  
Sportacus picked himself up quickly before helping the woman and girl. He looked over at the creature, who looked at him with a tired yet thankful gaze.  
“Thank you.” Said Sportacus with a small bow.  
The creature nodded.  
“It is nothing.” It answered, its voice deep and old.  
Sportacus nearly jumped back.  
“You can speak?” He asked.  
“All of my kind could speak. We are the ageless, the ones before the creatures and beasts you tame, befriend, fear, and kill. We are the wonders of the first world.” The creature responded.  
Sportacus, at first too paralyzed by this revelation, eventually responded with a low and respectful bow. The woman, upon seeing this, bowed as well. The girl, however, stood tall.  
“How may I address you, wonderous beast?” asked Sportacus.  
The beast shook its manes.  
“I am Anamcha, child of Gaimhreadhán, the lord of the Northern Mountains in the days before your kind. I am the last of my kind and am the guardian of the Eastern lands.” It said.  
Sportacus nodded as he raised his head.  
“I must thank you, Sportacus of Alfenheim, for releasing me from that cursed collar.” Anamcha said.  
“You know my name?”  
“I am aware of the prophecy you are a part of so, yes, I know your name.” Anamcha said simply. “The collar you freed me from had reduced me to nothing but a feral beast. By you freeing me, my full self was freed as well. I am forever in your debt.”  
Anamcha bowed to Sportacus, with Sportacus feeling a tingling in his chest, a swell of pride of sorts.  
Anamcha then stood and looked towards the little girl who still refused to bow.  
The girl’s face paled to white, but she remained with a steady expression.  
“I imagine you feel a great guilt about what occurred for the both of us, but know that I forgive you child. I sense your pain and fear, and now that we are both free we shall be allowed to go our separate way. See it though that in the future you do not again attempt to meddle with myself again.” It said patiently.  
The girl averted her gaze, her cheeks blazing red with embarrassment. She voicelessly nodded.  
Sportacus looked at Anamcha curiously, a look which the beast caught.  
“This young child had snuck into my den to saw off one of my horns.” It explained calmly. “She’d been led to believe that my horns have the power to grant wishes. It is not true, of course. We were both captured by those ruffians outside of my home. They saw our chase.”  
“Oh.” Sportacus said in surprise.  
“It is of no pain to me. Many an adventurer has pursued me under the same impression.” Replied Anamcha as he turned away.  
“I must apologize to you all, but I must return to my home. I’ve been gone for far too long, and I must ensure that my lands have not fallen victim to more tragedy.” The beast said. “But Sportacus, I shall remember your kind deed and repay it someday.”  
“Thank you, Anamcha.” Said Sportacus as he bowed once more.  
The beast then sprinted forward, the wind whistling through its manes, the sand kicking up in thick clouds as it sped across the land and vanished over the horizon.

Sportacus watched until Anamcha vanished, the weariness finally settling within his body. He sighed tiredly and held up Robbie, offering him a shaky smile.  
“So, how have things been with you?” he asked jokingly.  
Robbie gave a shaky laugh back.  
“Uh, could be better. They chucked me into a pile you know, after they took me away from you.”  
“A pile?”  
“Of weapons. I sat in that pile for hours. I thought they’d melt us down.”  
“I was worried about that.” Sportacus admitted.  
“Y-Yeah, same here.” Robbie said, his smile audible. “But, you saw, they just mounted us on that wall and then I saw you. That’s it from me.”  
“Okay, well, I’m glad you’re okay.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“Yeah, I am too.” Robbie laughed before he cleared his throat. “But, um, now on to you. You – “  
Robbie stopped, and tilted himself up.  
“ – holy goddess what did they _do_ to your _hair_?!”  
“My hair?” asked Sportacus before he remembered. “O-Oh, uh, right they cut it. Said it was for safety reasons.”  
“W-Well fine, but…oh geez.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus smiled weakly and shrugged.  
“What do you think? Is it me?” He asked with a darkly humorous tone as he struck a pose.  
“No. Definitely not. Grow it back this instant.” Said Robbie as he tilted himself side to side.  
“That’s not really how hair works.”  
“I don’t care. Grow it back, now.”  
“I’m surprised you care so much about my hair.” Said Sportacus with a smirk as he felt his hair.  
“W-What? N-No, I,” Robbie said, feeling himself grow warm. “I-I just think you look weird without the long hair. That’s all I’ve seen you with, you know.”  
“Ah, okay. I get that.” Sportacus said. “Well, it’ll grow back eventually.”  
“It’d better.” Robbie muttered.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”

Sportacus chuckled before he looked about and sighed.  
“Well, now we have a problem. I have no clue where we are, and we don’t have Loftskip. I don’t even know where the closest town is.”  
“Me neither.” Robbie admitted as he looked about. “I suppose we could follow Anamcha’s footsteps, if we’re still going to go towards Solstice Peak. We’re a long ways away from it now.”  
“Yeah, I – “Sportacus sighed, before he paused and looked at himself.  
His face grayed.  
“Uh, well, I think we’ll have to go back either way.”  
“What?”  
“Robbie, I’m missing parts of the armor.”  
“What?!” Robbie sputtered. “H-How?! How are you _missing_ parts of the armor??”  
“It was taken from me!” Sportacus defended. “These were the only two pieces I retrieved. The chestplate and other gauntlet must be back in the arena.”  
“Right, the arena. The arena that collapsed behind us.” Robbie groaned. “If the armor is even in _one piece_ – “  
“Hey, hey it’ll be fine. This is blessed armor after all, it shouldn’t be that easily smashed…right?” said Sportacus.  
“For the sake of this world, it’d better be.” Robbie muttered.  
Sportacus nodded before he slipped Robbie back through the thin, rope belt he wore.  
“Well, no time like the present. We should get moving.” He said.  
“What about the woman and the girl?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“Right! We should ask if they want to come with us.” He said as he turned around. “Excuse me, do you two need to go – “

He stopped once he noticed the woman and girl running away from them, towards a horse grazing in the distance.

The girl managed to reach the horse first, the horse throwing its head, startled. She kicked the horse’s side and tried to steer it away, but the horse rebelled and snorted. The woman stood back in shock.  
Sportacus and Robbie watched from a distance.  
“Uh, Sportacus? Should we stop them?” asked Robbie.  
“I think – “Sportacus started, before he paused. “ – wait.”  
Before Robbie could respond, Sportacus started running forward with one hand clasping at his side wound. With his other, he pressed his fingers between his lips and whistled sharply.  
The horse instantly stopped, its ears perking up.  
Sportacus smiled happily.  
“Loftskip! Here girl!” He called as he whistled again.  
The little girl continued to kick and wrangle with Loftskip’s reigns, but the horse ignored her. She instead bounded forward, galloping and sprinting to Sportacus, who greeted her with a pat on the neck.  
“Oh good girl, good girl.” He cooed as he rubbed her neck. “You made it out okay, good girl.”  
Loftskip flicked her ear and butted her nose against Sportacus’s shoulder, earning a hiss from him as she bumped against the still sore spot where he’d been tattooed.  
The little girl sat there stubbornly as Sportacus rounded towards her.  
“I’m afraid this horse is mine, but if you need to go somewhere I’d be more than happy to take you.” He offered.  
The girl frowned and leapt off the horse. She immediately started running the other direction, her pushing the woman aside as she did.  
“Woah! Hey! Where are you going??” asked Sportacus uneasily as he clambered atop Loftskip. He gave her a nudge and she started galloping forward, with Sportacus slowing her only long enough to help the woman to board her too.  
Loftskip charged ahead and quickly caught up with the, admittedly quick, girl, whose eyes remained fixed on a spot ahead.  
“Please! Why are you running? I can just give you a ride!” Sportacus asked.  
“Go away! I don’t need your help!” spat the girl back.  
“You’re running straight into the desert! I think you might need my help!”  
“You don’t know me! Now leave or I’ll trip your horse!” hissed the girl as she brandished the broken piece of sword.  
“What is your deal kid?! We saved your life!” asked Robbie angrily.  
“I said go away!” shouted the girl back.  
“Listen, please, let’s just stop so we can talk a moment – “

The girl looked forward and, instantly, skidded to a stop. Sportacus, at first confused, looked ahead and, once he spotted what she saw, he gasped and yanked back roughly on Loftskip’s reigns. The horse gave a startled neigh as she skidded to a halt, with her shaking her head to loosen the bit afterwards.

Sportacus looked uneasily as he straddled his horse, his eyes darting back and forth at the many eyes that now stared at them.  
They’d seemingly come out of nowhere, making not a sound or a move, yet there they were. There must’ve been at least a dozen people, all dressed in flowing robes of various colors that covered close-fitted, starchy robe-like apparel. Their hands were covered with hand wraps that stopped below their knuckles, their feet receiving a similar treatment. All wore masks over the bottom half of their faces and several wore hoods that concealed the rest of their appearances.  
One stepped forward, the individual dressed in pale cream robes and their face covered by their hood.  
Sportacus slowly slipped off Loftskip, his gaze wary yet nervous. He looked at the girl who, surprisingly, seemed less nervous but more petulant.  
The individual approached the girl, their gaze turned downwards. When they spoke, they had a definably feminine voice, smooth and quiet.  
“You ran off on your own again.” She said.  
“I know. I’m sorry, okay?” replied the girl.  
“You know how dangerous it is for you to leave the camps alone. Not just for yourself, but the safety of the family.”  
“I _know_. I didn’t mean to leave alone, I just…I really wanted to get that horn you talked about.”  
The robed woman looked surprised.  
“The horn?”  
“I found Anamcha. I nearly got his horn when we…well, got taken. I’m safe now though, and he’s alive too. I thought if I got the horn, maybe it’d help our family. We could wish ourselves back to something stable and…and respected.” Said the girl, her eyes watering even as she furiously scrunched her face to stifle said tears.  
The robed woman cocked her head sympathetically, her hand reaching out to gently tilt the girl’s head up.  
“Trixie, dear, I know you worry about our family. I thank you for thinking about us, but you really can’t run off like this. We were worried sick about you.”  
Trixie nodded before, relenting, she rushed forward and hugged the woman.  
The robed woman picked her up and hugged her back.  
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Said the woman.

Sportacus watched this with a nervous gaze, his attention still snapping around to the other robed people who’d yet to move or even react to everything that was happening.  
“And who is this?” said the robed woman, her voice directed to Sportacus.  
Sportacus’s attention snapped to the woman, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.  
“M-My name is Sportacus. I hail from Alfenheim.” He answered uneasily.  
“I see. And why, Sportacus of Alfenheim, are you here?” asked the woman coolly.  
“Well,”  
“That girl tried to take our horse, that’s why. And when we tried to help her home, she ran from us, even though we saved her life.” Robbie butted in.  
“Robbie…” Sportacus hissed warningly.  
“What? It’s the truth.”  
The robed woman looked at Trixie.  
“Daughter, is this true?” She asked.  
Trixie bit her lip and, slowly, she nodded.  
“I see.” Said the woman.  
“I just didn’t want them to find our home.” Mumbled Trixie.  
“Understandable. You did the right thing.” Said the woman as she looked back at Sportacus.  
She paused, her eyes fixing upon the circlet on Sportacus’s head.  
“But…it appears that we might deviate from the usual protocol.” Said the woman softly.  
She slowly approached Sportacus, her eyes never leaving his circlet. Sportacus could feel his heart beat faster, unsure of what she would do.  
“Sportacus of Alfenheim, is that the Blessed Circlet of the Goddess?” asked the woman.  
Sportacus blinked in surprise before he quickly nodded.  
“I see.” Said the woman again. “You are the prophesized one.”

Finally, the people surrounding Sportacus and the others seemed to react. They looked at each other for moment, before returning to attention at the look of the woman.

She looked back at Sportacus.  
“We’ve been waiting for you, Sportacus. I believe we have something of yours but let us not talk here. You will come with us to our camp.” She said.  
Suddenly, Sportacus felt a cloth be yanked around his eyes and be tied taught behind him.  
“W-Wha - !” He stammered.  
“You may be the chosen hero, Sportacus, but we still value our secrecy. Thus, you and your weapon may not see where we go until we reach our home. We hope you understand.” Answered the woman.  
“Um, I guess so, uh…” Sportacus said.  
“Call me Dinah. I will explain more once we reach home.” She said, her footsteps drawing away.

Sportacus felt a pair of hands at his back and he, uneasily, walked along, walking wherever the hands behind him directed him, his sense of direction growing increasingly weak as they traveled through the sandy wastes.

\--

“Now I particularly enjoy this specific blend of black tea because of the bergamot essence the teamaker infused within the leaves. It’s truly a marvel of invention I’d say! Perhaps one of the greatest in our generation’s choice of tea!”

“Uh huh.”

“Give it a sip. Surely, you’ll see how smooth it is and the sweet notes at the end.” Lord Meanswell said eagerly as he tipped his cup.  
Kilgrim, seated uncomfortably in a seat far too small for him, took the near hilariously tiny tea cup and brought it to his lips. He tilted the cup and took the tiniest sip.  
It took everything in his power not to wretch from the disgustingly bitter concoction.  
“Mmm, aye! Very, erm, smooth.” He stated as he set his tea cup carefully back on the saucer.  
“Isn’t it? Oh, I just love a nice cup of tea on a day like today. Nothing speaks ‘rainy day’ more than a hot cup of tea and sweet biscuits.”  
“Oh yes, I couldn’t agree more.” Kilgrim stated flatly as he plucked one of said biscuits off the tray.  
It was extravagantly over-decorated with pale pink frosting and tiny pearls made of fondant dotting the top. He gave it a cautious sniff and near recoiled from the pungent sugary smell.  
He set the biscuit back down as his mind chastised him for folding so easily to his son’s begging. It sounded much easier on paper to try and act friendly to the Meanswell family. After all, they were related in some distant fashion.

But nothing anywhere said he’d have to endure this frilly, overall far too posh affair of bitter teas and obnoxiously sweet treats.

He took another cautious sip of his tea and slightly gagged.  
“We pride in our tea selection here in Meanswell. We import much of our tea from the countries across the sea, which is then shipped from our associates in Spoilero. We’ve been in contact with them for centuries and, oh, they’ve never let us down! Always there’s some sort of nice little addition to our shipment and each time it’s a pleasant surprise! Such a gift!” Lord Meanswell prattled on.  
“Aye, sounds like a treat. They treat you well here.” Said Kilgrim as, seeing the lord distracted, he slipped a small flask of liquor from his belt.  
He threw a splash into his tea and took another sip. He frowned; the improvement was smaller than he’d hoped, but it was better than nothing.  
“Ah, I’m just glad we could find something to talk about. I was truly worried about how well we’d get along, but this is going far more swimmingly than I’d ever hoped for!” Lord Meanswell said as he sunk against his chair.  
Kilgrim smiled genuinely.  
“It is a change of pace, that is for certain. You Meanswells are a kind lot, quite welcoming. Different, but welcoming.” He said.  
“Not so different I’d say! You know, my own father was quite a swordsman. Unbeaten in battle, perfect score his whole life. You could say it’s in the gene pool.” Lord Meanswell boasted slightly.  
“Aye, is that so?” asked Kilgrim, mildly amused. “My own father was a great warrior too.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, he cleaved a troll in half. With his bare hands.”

Lord Meanswell paused.  
“Oh. Oh my. Well…he was quite impressive, wasn’t he?”  
“Nah, quite average. But that’s my village for you. We’re an exceptional lot.” Kilgrim said with a casual shrug.  
“Quite.” Said Lord Meanswell, slightly put off, as he sipped his tea.  
They had a promise to keep, but both men found it tricky to keep their words.

The doors to the small living room slammed open. Lady Busybody stormed in first, her fan fluttering furiously as she propped her fists against her hips. Valda followed in quickly behind her and adopted the same pose.  
“What are you two doing here? I thought you both were working on the battle plans!” Lady Busybody asked angrily.  
“The tiny lady is right, you two are wasting time.” Valda stated as she folded her arms over her chest. “What is this tea here for? Tea is not good for battle preparation.”  
“This is Lord Milford’s idea.” Kilgrim defended.  
“Lord _Meanswell_.” He corrected.  
“Right, yes.” Kilgrim said. “He wanted to share this tea.”  
He held up the hilariously tiny tea cup to his wife, who only quirked an eyebrow at the sight.  
“I don’t care whose idea this was! We must keep working on the battle strategies, otherwise we’ll never be ready for the Darkness’s return!” Lady Busybody said.  
“Bessie, dear,” Lord Meanswell sighed. “we’ve been working on the battle strategies for days now. What we have is the best we can create for the time being.”  
“Aye. Without your little friends from the north, there’s not much we can do.” Kilgrim agreed as he sipped his boozy tea.

Lady Busybody sighed annoyedly and sat herself on the little table.  
“Queen Isabella or not, our plans are woefully behind schedule. We have to keep working on them.” She said.  
“But without Queen Isabella and the forces from Spoilero, it’s impossible to create a battle strategy! We don’t even know our final headcount for the various units.” Lord Meanswell argued.  
“Then create something for our current number of men.” Suggested Valda. “We are quite powerful even if we’re few.”  
“It doesn’t matter how powerful our current army is, we’re still woefully low on trained soldiers.” Lamented Lord Meanswell. “When the king and queen left to address the issues at the Eastern border, they took half of our active army with them. With our reserves, we’re just short of 4,500 soldiers. With your warriors, Kilgrim and Valda, we’re barely over 5,000. Simply put, even if we have spirit, we don’t even have enough soldiers for a _regular_ battle, much less one against a force we cannot even fathom the power of.”  
“He is right, my love. Sadly, we just need more fighters. With the Spoilero armies, we’d be in a better spot, but for the time being we’re barely a drop compared to the Darkness’s lake.” Kilgrim added quietly.

Valda and Lady Busybody looked at each other. Lady Busybody seemed a bit defeated as she fluttered her fan thoughtfully.  
Valda bit her lip and slammed her fist against the table.  
“Enough of this hopelessness! Lord Milford, you have captains, yes?” She asked.  
“O-Of course! A-And it’s Lord Meanswell…”  
“Cull through the city and find more able people. Perhaps we have time to have them trained in battle. With a few more soldiers we shall be more prepared.”  
“So a draft?” asked Lady Busybody.  
“We cannot do that. The citizens are still unaware of the direness of our situation, this would be too much to thrust upon them!” Lord Meanswell contested.  
“Then would you prefer they learn when the Darkness’s creations are burning their homes and killing their loved ones??” Valda asked angrily. “You cannot keep your people blind forever, Lord Milford!”  
Lord Meanswell winced.  
“Lord Milford, my wife may be blunt, but she speaks the truth. The people must know.” Said Kilgrim.  
“I-I know! I know.” Lord Meanswell cried. “I just…we just got things back to somewhat normal…”  
Lady Busybody sympathetically strode towards her husband and hugged him. She kissed his head.  
“I know, my dear. We are in a difficult time. I know it’d be easier to keep all of this quiet, but they are right. We need to let the kingdom know.” She said softly.  
“I know, I know.” Lord Meanswell said sadly.  
He sighed.  
“Right. I’ll go prepare a statement and make an announcement to the citizens. I don’t know how well this will – “He started.

The doors to the room slammed open and a man, exhausted and shaking, stumbled inside flanked by several guards. All four leaders stood up and stared at the man.

“Guards! Who is this?” Lady Busybody asked, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.  
“A farmer from the outer villages, my lady. He has important news for you and Lord Meanswell.” Reported the guard fearfully.  
“My lady! My lord!” cried the farmer as he fell to his knees. “The Darkness! The Darkness!”  
“Lad! Up on your feet, son!” said Kilgrim as he helped the man back up.  
The farmer gripped Kilgrim’s arms and looked at him with terrified eyes.  
“The Darkness! It is here! It is here and it’s coming for the kingdom!” He screamed. “His armies rise from the South, and its essence will eat all!”  
“Dear, please! Breathe! You are safe here.” Urged Lady Busybody as she gestured for one of the guards.  
The farmer feverishly shook his head.  
“No! No, we are _not_ safe! The Darkness shall consume us all, and the God of All-Consuming Darkness shall rise once more! The world will perish in flames! We are all _doomed_!” He shrieked.  
“Finnigan! Your assistance, please!” cried Lady Busybody.  
The mage rushed inside with a glass of water.  
“Farmer, here you are. Please, drink it. It’s just normal water.” He reassured.  
The farmer took the glass with a shaking hand as the mage led him to a chair. Lady Busybody looked back at Lord Meanswell with a scared expression.  
“Lord Milford,” said Kilgrim gravely. “we’re out of time. We must prepare.”  
“Y-Yes.” Lord Meanswell said, his brow dripping with sweat. “we must send for our captains and prepare a defensive position.”

The guards in the room rushed out upon hearing the command, with Kilgrim and Valda following close behind to address their own warriors.

Lord Meanswell nervously sat in his chair that faced the open veranda doors. With a shaking hand he lifted his tea cup to his lips.  
“Dear, it will be okay. We will win, remember, we’re strong.” Assured Lady Busybody.  
“I only hope you’re right, my dear.” Said Lord Meanswell. “I don’t believe I’m ready to face the end of the world.”

\--

It felt like they’d been walking for quite some time before Sportacus was finally stopped by the person leading him. He knew that they’d walked for a while across the flat desert and had descended someplace with a rather steep grade of decline, but otherwise he couldn’t fathom exactly how far he was from where they started nor a hint of where he was.

He could, however, smell something in the air that was faintly meaty with a few hints of something savory. He could hear something crackling, a fire perhaps. He could also feel the warmth of said fire. He also heard a few voices around him, which caused him to blindly look about.  
Pressure on his shoulders forced him to sit down and he could feel the fire’s warmth far more clearly.  
“My apologies for the long walk. Remove the blindfolds.” Said Dinah.  
The blindfold was quickly removed from Sportacus’s face, which caused him to be slightly blinded by the sudden intrusion of the fire’s light. He squinted and blinked, before he could finally look about.  
The first thing he realized was that, somehow during their walking, they’d ended up in some kind of gorge, the night sky looming above them and filling the canyon with a pale blue light.  
The walls of the canyon were dotted with various caverns and caves, with many of their entrances covered by a cloth or blanket hanging from their ceilings. Ridges bored into the walls formed as sort of walkways, with several people dressed similarly to Dinah and the others walking about.  
He looked down at the campfire and finally noticed the pot that hung from a highbar constructed of what looked like scrap metal. The meaty smell was swirling from the pot, with one person stirring it periodically.  
“Arms up please.” Said a voice behind him.  
Sportacus paused for a moment before he complied. As he lifted his arms, he felt the rope belt be loosened and his ragged shirt be pulled up and over his head. He looked back as the person rushed away with his garb, leaving him shirtless at the fireside.

As he sat there, another person offered him a stone bowl.  
“Dinner?” asked the person.  
“Oh, thank you.” Replied Sportacus as he took the surprisingly heavy bowl.  
He sniffed the soup and looked it over. It was rather thin, the soup barely a little darker than clear with a few pieces of stew meat and root vegetables floating about. He lifted the bowl to his lips and took a small sip. Faintly, it tasted spicy, but just faintly. As a whole, however, the soup was rather bland, most likely due to its lack of ingredients.  
“How is the soup?” asked Dinah as she sat next to Sportacus. She was followed shortly afterwards by Trixie, who now wore the same kind of robes and garb as everyone else.  
“It’s…good.” Sportacus said politely.  
“I know, it must be too thin isn’t it? I’m afraid the desert doesn’t afford us much in terms of spices and ingredients.” Replied Dinah as she took her own bowl of soup.  
Sportacus took another slurp of his soup as he felt something cold being pressed against his side. He looked down to the see the person from earlier crouched beside him, their hands working to dig up the remains of a green paste spread inside a small jar. They pressed the green gunk against the wound as they massaged it in, leaving his skin shivering.  
They worked on the wound for several more minutes before they revealed a length of gauze, ragged and aged. They wrapped up the wound and gave a nod to Sportacus before they rushed away with the medicines.  
He felt at the gauze, his wound now emitting only a dull ache rather than the sharp pain he felt earlier.

“It’s a small thanks, but we hope that it suffices for now.” Said Dinah.  
Sportacus looked up.  
“No, it’s great. Thank you, but…why?” He said.  
“You saved our dear Trixie. I would think that more than requires a little thanks.” Answered Dinah.  
“I guess that’s fair.” He said.  
Dinah nodded and sipped more of her soup.  
Sportacus looked about before speaking again.  
“So, where are we exactly?” He asked.  
“And just as important, _who_ are all of you?” asked Robbie.  
“That’s secret, outsider.” Said Trixie with a frown.  
“Trixie.” Dinah said warningly. “I apologize for my daughter’s unfriendliness. Again, she’d usually be right to act like this, but you are a guest.”  
Trixie sipped up her soup and looked at Sportacus with a wary, but apologetic, look.  
“This is our home.” Dinah explained as she gestured to the canyon. “And the people you look upon are the last remaining members of the Serpent’s Tooth Guild.”  
“The Serpent’s Tooth Guild?” asked Sportacus.  
“I’ve never heard of you all.” Remarked Robbie.  
“There’s a reason for that.” Said Dinah darkly. “If you will permit me, I can explain our long history to you both. Perhaps you’ll understand why we live in these inhospitable wastes in hiding.”  
Sportacus looked at Robbie, the sword sighing and nodding.  
“We’d like to hear it.” Sportacus responded.

“Then perhaps I should start by explaining what exactly _we_ are. This group you’re looking upon formerly represented one of the most prolific assassin groups in all of Lazyfell.” Dinah started.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“Assassins?”  
Dinah nodded.  
“Shortly after the Goddess of Light shattered the God of All-Consuming Darkness and ended their conflict, you may remember learning that the kingdoms fell into conflict. Battles escalated into an all-out war between the then seven kingdoms of the country. There were traditional battles held, yes, but we assassins were another…popular method for the other kingdoms to control their political adversaries from the other kingdoms.” She started as she sipped her soup again.  
“For four hundred years, things were plentiful for us. Or at least, as plentiful as they could be, given the war times. But we were a large and respected organization amongst the royals. We provided a way of life for vagrants and orphans who had nowhere to go. Then, the war ended.” She said.  
Trixie looked over and set down her bowl of soup.  
“The kingdoms declared peace as suddenly as they had declared war, and the kingdoms were struggling to cobble together an at the time uneasy alliance. They wanted to bury as much as they could the evidence of the 400-year war. This included our guild.” Dinah said quietly. “Overnight, all the kingdoms declared the occupation of assassination illegal and punishable by imprisonment…or worse.”  
Sportacus’s ears drooped.  
“Our entire guild had to go underground. The more well-to-do members with families in civilized society renounced their memberships and went on to live normal lives. They never forgot about us, but they also did little to assist those of us who _couldn’t_ live normal lives. Those of us who were orphaned or destitute, this guild was the only family we had and the only life we knew. The people here are all descendants of those first vagrants and orphans, the ones trapped here.”  
“The kingdoms rooted out many of our groups and imprisoned them, killing almost all of them. We were forced to run from place to place, hiding, and losing so many of our own. Hundreds dwindled to dozens. And now, so many centuries later, we’re the last ones left, these fifty you see here.” Dinah said, finishing both her story and her soup.

Sportacus set down his emptied soup bowl, his expression drained.  
“I’m…I’m sorry.” He said quietly.  
Dinah set down her own bowl.  
“It’s simply how things are.” She said simply. “None of those original members are left, so this is all we know: being hunted and hiding.”  
“It gets really tiring.” Trixie added.  
Dinah nodded in assent.  
“We’ve been lucky that we found this gorge. It’s been good for us, providing us security for at least a decade.” She said.  
“Only that long?” asked Robbie softly.  
Sportacus looked at him sadly.  
“It is a blessing, given everything else.” Dinah said.  
Trixie looked down guiltily.  
“Uh, mom?” She said.  
Dinah looked over.  
“I-I’m so sorry. I’m sorry if getting caught means people can find us, I-I didn’t mean it I really just wanted to help – “  
“No, no dear.” Dinah said softly as she hugged her. “It’s okay, we’ll survive. We always survive, my dear.”  
Sportacus looked at them sadly.  
“Is…Is there anything I could do to help? You all seem so kind, I’m sure the kingdoms could pardon everyone if I talk to their leaders…” He offered.  
Dinah looked up and over, her expression grave.  
“We…can talk about that later. Perhaps we can come up with a solution.” She said.  
Sportacus nodded, his attention falling to the fire instead.

The evening went on, the fire soon being extinguished after all the assassins went off to their caverns to sleep. Dinah carried a passed-out Trixie to a small cave covered by a cotton sheet. After she emerged, she gestured for Sportacus to follow her up a bored-out walkway, up to the top of the gorge.  
She waited at the top as Sportacus finally joined her. A cool wind blew through the desert that whistled lowly. The sky was filled with stars that twinkled and sparkled.  
Her arms were crossed as Sportacus reached the top, her back to him.  
“So, is there a way I can help you? Because I’m prepared to do anything if it means to help your family. I’m certain with me being a chosen hero and all I could perhaps do – “Sportacus started.  
“It’s not that easy, Sportacus.” Dinah said quietly.  
“But you said at the campfire we would come up with a solution – “  
“Yes, but it still isn’t easy.” Said Dinah.  
Sportacus went quiet.  
Dinah’s head lowered.  
“To be honest, Sportacus, there is no solution. Our guild has nearly six-hundred years of hatred and persecution following and dogging it at every turn from every kingdom both standing and fallen. With how few our numbers are and our need to resort to theft, our days are numbered.” She said.  
“But that can’t be true! You’ve also _withstood_ six-hundred years of persecution! There must be something that keeps your group alive against all odds that’ll keep you alive in the future!” Sportacus protested.  
“ _Sportacus_ ,” Dinah said tiredly. “please.”

Sportacus looked at her sadly but nonetheless went quiet.

“Your optimism is lovely and refreshing in times like these, but what you’re attempting, to undo centuries of hatred and persecution, is impossible.” Dinah said solemnly. “Even for someone like yourself, even your influence is too little to undo it all. Salvation is not what I can hope for.”  
“Then what?” asked Sportacus quietly.  
Dinah looked back at the wastes.  
“I have one request, in place of our salvation. When you defeat the Darkness, I hope you can come back here. When you do, we wish to tutor you in our ways.”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Then, after that, immortalize it within writing. Write about our ways so they’re not lost to history once we are all gone.” She asked softly.  
Sportacus’s face paled.  
“That is all we can ask.” She finished.  
“I…I will at _least_ do that for everyone. But…” He said, shaking his head. “…there has to be more I can do. I-I won’t let you all be imprisoned for nothing!”  
“Sportacus, you must understand: you cannot save everything and everyone. We appreciate how passionate you are, but for the sake of your sanity, please…let it go. We already have.” Dinah said firmly.  
Sportacus’s ears drooped, his expression breaking as he looked at the assassin in disbelief.

Finally, he nodded.

“I’ll…try.” He conceded.  
Dinah sighed and looked towards the horizon.  
“I notice you wear the blessed armor. You’re still missing many pieces I can see.” She noted.  
“Well, I had more, but I’m afraid I lost them at the arena.” Sportacus admitted.  
“You did? Well, you should’ve spoken up earlier. I’ll find two members and have them search the arena. If what Trixie mentioned is true, there should be little chance of being caught.”  
“Thank you. Really, thank you. You’ve saved us several days of journeying.” Sportacus said with a small smile.  
“ _And_ , we have one last thing for you. But I believe it can wait until morning. I imagine you are tired?” She said.  
“I…I am. Wow, I am.” Said Sportacus as a yawn escaped him.  
“Follow me. You may stay in one of the…vacant caves.” Dinah said softly.

\--

Sportacus laid atop his blanket and stared at the cave’s ceiling. Despite his weariness, he was unable to sleep; the conversation with Dinah left him troubled and uneasy.

“Are you okay?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus sighed and shook his head.  
“Thinking about Dinah?”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Yeah, same here.” He said.  
“I just…I don’t understand how they can be so hopeless. There’s always a way, I _have_ to be able to help them somehow! At least, more than preserving the _memory_ of them.” Sportacus protested.  
“I know, I know you do.” Robbie sighed. “But…Dinah is right.”  
“What?? How can you say that?” Sportacus said, looking over at his friend.  
“I mean, even _you_ can’t undo the past. If she’s right, then these kingdoms’ need to project their own issues onto the guild overpowers any mercy they might be willing to give.” Robbie said thoughtfully.  
“But,” Sportacus said, his brows furrowing and ears drooping. “no, no I can’t accept that. That’s too awful! I…they wouldn’t be like that.”  
“How do you know?” asked Robbie sadly.  
Sportacus looked at him with widened eyes before he finally averted his gaze. He sighed and turned to his side.

“I don’t…but I don’t want to think like that.” Sportacus finally conceded. “I won’t accept this as impossible. Nothing’s impossible. I refuse to feel like that.”  
“Alright, well, I’m just warning you.” Said Robbie. “Sleep well, okay? Good night.”  
Sportacus paused.  
“Good night.” He answered quietly.

He then forced himself to try and sleep, which ended up a trickier task than he anticipated given the wrestling in his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you all liked this chapter. I know it was a little all over the place, but that's mostly because we're in a weird point of the story where there's a little more build-up needed for the ending, but also some story stuff to finish up too. So this chapter and the next chapter may be a little all over the place, but it'll hopefully pay off.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	20. The Researchers

The first thing Sportacus saw, sitting at his feet, was the missing pieces of his armor. He sat up straight, his eyes goggling at the sight of his once-missing chestplate and gauntlet. He smiled and chuckled softly as he took the gauntlet and slipped it back onto his hand.

“I see you’ve seen your armor.” Said Dinah as she slipped past the blanket covering the opening. “Theorodus and Isaiah had to search through quite a bit of rubble, but they did eventually find them both. You weren’t missing anything else, right?”  
“No, this is perfect. Thank you so much.” Said Sportacus as he threw his legs across his blanket.  
“Just a moment. We have two more things for you.” Said Dinah.  
She approached Sportacus and, first, handed him a bundle of cloth.  
Sportacus unfolded the cloth and realized it was one of the outfits that the assassins wore, though this one was in his usual sky-blue color. He even got his own pair of hand wraps and foot wraps.  
“I imagine rags aren’t appropriate garb when facing a god in battle. I hope these suffice.” Dinah said.  
“These are wonderful. I like the wraps, they’ll keep my hands and feet safe I bet.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“And, one more thing.” Said Dinah as she lugged a heavy, rusted pair of boots towards him.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“These were once protected by the mages of Solstice Peak until a raid on their academy a hundred years ago. They fell into our hands and we’ve protected them ever since.” Dinah explained.  
Sportacus grunted as he lifted the boots and looked them over. They had to be part of the blessed armor, mostly because they weren’t much to look at at the minute.  
He carefully slipped them onto his feet.

The boots rattled and shook before exploding into blinding, golden light. Sportacus, Dinah, and Robbie forced themselves to look away until the light faded, the glittering of the boots replacing it.  
  
With the light gone, Sportacus looked down and gaped in awe. Much like the other pieces of armor, the clunky and thick boots had been transformed into gilded, golden pieces of art. Once only reaching the ankles, they now extended up his calves, with curved designs implemented on the front.  
Dinah nodded in admiration.  
“Ah, there we go. They look far more blessed.” She said with a chuckle.  
“It never really does get old.” Chuckled Sportacus.  
“Understandable.” Said Dinah as she crossed her arms. “So, where are you off to next? How much of the armor is left?”  
Sportacus’s smile faded.  
“Well,” He said quietly. “I know there’s one piece left but…I don’t know where it’d be. You’re sure there isn’t another piece in Solstice Peak?”  
Dinah shook her head.  
“Those boots were the only piece. My apologies, I don’t know where the last piece would be.”  
“It’s okay.” Said Sportacus with a weak smile. “We’ll figure it out, somehow.”  
He picked up the clothes as Dinah got up.  
“I’ll let you get dressed. We’ll show you out when you leave. I’m afraid we’ll need the blindfolds again; we still can’t let you know our exact location.” She said.  
“Understood.” Said Sportacus with a nod.

As Dinah left, Sportacus quickly changed into his new clothes. He flipped the edge of his robe and maneuvered his hood accompany his chestplate. After slipping on the last of his armor, he posed slightly.  
“What do you think?” He asked Robbie.  
“What? Oh, you look fine.” He said passively.  
“Come on, Robbie.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“Oh fine, you look official. Like the real deal. Happy?” said Robbie mumbled.  
“Course. I was just messing with you, I didn’t need to hear that.”  
“You know Sportacus, oxygen isn’t something to be wasted. How horrible would I be if I just wasted time giving you compliments you apparently aren’t looking for?”  
Sportacus smirked.  
“I guess that’d be pretty evil.” He said.  
“Exactly, and I’m a reformed sword.”  
“ _Man_.”  
“Right. Either way, I’m reformed, so no more wasting oxygen.” Robbie said.  
“Alright Robbie.” Said Sportacus as he shook his head and stood up.

He grabbed Robbie and slid him back into his sheath.  
“Are you doing okay?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus stopped.  
“Yeah, why? Do I look like I’m not doing well?” He asked.  
“Well no. You just seemed upset last night about your conversation with Dinah.”  
Sportacus paused, then sighed.  
“I’m…fine. I’m not happy, but I’ll be fine.” He said.  
“You still stubborn about it?”  
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” said Sportacus.  
“Because the last thing you need is to be disappointed and feel like it’s your fault if you can’t save them.” Said Robbie solemnly.  
Sportacus stopped, his grip on Robbie’s hilt failing.  
“We should get going. I think if we head towards the towns at the border, we might gain a clue about the next piece of armor.” He said as he strode out of the cave.  
Robbie didn’t say anything else, but he still kept a slightly concerned eye on his wielder.

\--

With Loftskip ready and fed, Sportacus mounted her and prepared to ride out of the gorge. The assassins quickly secured a blindfold over his eyes, Loftskip’s, and even Robbie’s gemstone, with one assassin taking Loftskip’s reins and leading her down a seemingly winding path.

They traveled for nearly an hour, the group trekking up a ledge until eventually the ground leveled out and sounded far softer and more unstable.  
The assassin leading Loftskip stopped sometime later. The group removed Sportacus, Loftskip, and Robbie’s blindfolds, with Sportacus looking about at the area they stood in. There was grass, that was one new sight, though the grass was far thinner and drier looking than the grass on the Western half of the country. There was also a defined road. Looking back, Sportacus guessed that the sand covered the rest of the road (if it existed).  
“This is where we’ll leave you.” Said Dinah. “I hope you are able to find the last piece of armor soon.”  
“I hope so too. Thank you.” Said Sportacus as he retook Loftskip’s reins.  
Trixie walked away from her mother and, slowly, approached Sportacus. Her hands were in her pockets and she looked up with a level of remorse.  
“Sorry I was rude to you yesterday, and thanks for helping me escape the arena.” She said. “You’re pretty cool.”  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“It’s no worries, Trixie. Take care of your mom and family, okay?” He said.  
“As if I wouldn’t!” Trixie said quickly.  
Dinah smiled faintly beneath her mask.  
“Everyone, let’s head out.” She said, before she looked back at Sportacus. “Until next time, Sportacus.”

She threw down something made of paper and ball-shaped, which exploded into a burst of gray smoke. Sportacus waited until the smoke cleared, coughing as he did. To his shock, the assassins had vanished, leaving not even footprints behind.

“Wow. Theatrical.” Commented Robbie. “Maybe they could become entertainers instead of assassins.”  
Sportacus gave his friend a look.  
“Right, that was insensitive. Sorry.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus sighed and nodded.  
“Let’s keep going.” He said as he cracked Loftskip’s rein.  
“Sorry. Again.” Said Robbie.  
“What?”  
“Oh, for my comment.”  
“I-It’s cool, really. Sorry, I was just making sure we were moving forward.” Said Sportacus with a smirk.  
“Oh, got it. Thanks for provoking my anxiety.”  
“You have anxiety?”  
“Yeah, and I wish you’d respect it.” Robbie said.  
“Okay, you’re forgiven. No need to apologize again.”  
“Eh, one more time. Sorry. Now it’s an even three.”  
“You’re just messing with me again, aren’t you?”  
“Glad you’ve finally caught on.” Robbie said with an audible smile.  
Sportacus sighed and shook his head.  
“What am I going to do with you?” He asked.  
“Hopefully not throw me into a ditch.” Responded Robbie.

Loftskip trotted along, the dry grass continuing as they traversed over hills and fields, the desert slowly fading away to arid grassland. Signposts were sparse in this area and Sportacus simply decided to follow the road. Then again, what else could he do?  
As he rode, however, he kept himself busy with his thoughts.  
He tried to remember if he’d heard any clue about the fifth piece of armor. He seemed fairly complete as it was, with a piece of armor covering the majority of his body. What else could be left? He was at a loss and if he had no clue, he couldn’t even think of where to start looking or what to ask for.  
“Robbie, the armor I’m wearing, is there anything missing from it?” He asked.  
Robbie thought for a moment after lifting himself up.  
“Um, hmm…well, I don’t think so. You look pretty armored as it is, I have no clue what the fifth piece could be. Maybe it’s an accessory of some kind? Or maybe something to give you an extra power?” He suggested.  
“I don’t know.” Said Sportacus. “I really have no clue and without one, how are we going to find it?”  
“What makes you think we’ll have to find it on our own? Every last piece of armor we’ve gotten you were given by someone important. We’ll just find someone important in the next town and ask them.” Robbie pointed out.  
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Robbie, but there’s not a lot of people out here. Aside from the guild, I haven’t seen any signs of towns or people since we left Spoilero.” Sportacus said.  
“Right. True.” Robbie mumbled as he thought. “Huh. I guess we’ll just have to look around, huh?”  
“It’s the only option we have, but I’m not sure we have that time to spare.” Sportacus said worriedly.  
“Why? Do you see something?”  
“No, I just…feel something. Something off.” Sportacus said. “It’s in the wind, I think.”  
“Then we’ll just have to search quickly. Simple solution. Look for something rusted and or broken down and that’s a good place to start.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“I guess at least we have that to start with.” He answered.

They continued to ride, Sportacus bouncing gently atop Loftskip’s back, as they scanned the area, looking for the sign of anyone or anything. However, all there was was grass and the occasional tree, without even the ruins of human civilization. For hours they watched and looked, yet nothing. The two began to grow weary, and soon the lulling of Loftskip’s steady pace lulled their attention ever so slightly.  
However, it wasn’t enough for Sportacus to nearly miss something to his right.  
He looked over and, instantly, pulled back on Loftskip’s reins in shock.  
“Oh _goddess_.” He said in a hushed voice.  
“What?? What??” sputtered Robbie as he raised himself up.  
The two stopped.  
“Oh…oh no.” said Robbie.

There was a tree, a dead tree, off to the side of the road. This would usually be unextraordinary, except for something about the tree: it was _pulsating_ and _wavering_.

Something liquid-like, oozing, and hissing slid from the tree’s weakened trunk and slumped to the ground. The grass sizzled and instantly disintegrated from its presence.  
“ _Darkness_.” Hissed Robbie.  
Sportacus frowned and drew Robbie as he slid off Loftskip.  
Approaching the Darkness, he slashed at it and split it in two. The ooze lurched and gurgled before sliding away, leaving the partially eaten tree behind. Like a slug, the ooze squirmed and slid away, over a hill and down the road.  
Sportacus looked at Robbie before he slipped him back into his sheath.  
As he mounted Loftskip, he started her down the road again.  
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Noted Robbie.  
Sportacus stayed quiet.  
The group rode forward, past the hill the slime had crawled over and down the road. Sportacus’s heart dropped as he looked around him: so suddenly, rather suddenly, the scenery had shifted. Grass no longer dotted the landscape. It was all burned away by the sizeable pools of Darkness that laid in a spotty pattern across the ground, gurgling and bubbling and hissing with a noxious odor. Trees, dead and bereft of leaves, stood forlornly throughout the landscape, their bark burnt and singed by the Darkness’s presence. The whole air felt heavy and oppressive, with a strange, sickening smell in the air.  
Sportacus pulled his shirt’s collar over his face as he looked about, a shape flitting in his vision.

He stopped. What was that?  
It seemed like a person.  
He blinked and, for a moment…was that someone familiar?  
He froze.  
Íþro?  
Yes, it looked like his brother. It had to be him.  
He was standing atop a hill scarred by Darkness, his arms crossed, and his brow furrowed.  
“Íþro? How – “Sportacus started.  
  
“Sportacus, look.” Robbie said as he swung himself to the left.  
Sportacus looked over and, instantly, his face paled.  
He noticed that it wasn’t just the dead trees that dotted the landscape. The broken hilts and handles of weapons laid strewn throughout the barren land like tombstones, the number of them growing as they rode deeper into the ruins. Broken weapons were joined by destroyed buildings, with lone stone walls standing without the rest of their structures and burnt out houses rising like lonely mountains.  
They passed by a sign broken in half: _Green Plains, ¼ mile_.  
“Oh no.” said Sportacus in a hushed voice.

They reached the town’s limits within a few minutes, and the sight was just as bad as what they’d seen.  
If they hadn’t seen the sign, they might’ve been hard pressed to believe a town _ever_ existed where Green Plains once stood.  
Sportacus pulled back on Loftskip’s reins and drew her to a walk as they entered the town proper.  
All that remained of what looked like a once populous town were the foundations of multiple buildings, not even their supports remaining. In their place were more oozing Darkness that seeped and spilled from every available piece of land. The sounds of hissing and bubbling filled the air and the smell grew ever more noxious.  
Sportacus pulled back on Loftskip’s reins and came to a stop. Tentatively, he slipped off her saddle and stepped onto the ground. A bit of Darkness that he hadn’t seen hissed and retracted once his new boots made contact.  
“Ah, so that’s what they do.” Robbie noted.  
Sportacus said nothing. His face had grown gray and green.  
His eyes trailed up as he scanned the landscape. More broken weapons either littered the ground or remained stuck in the soil, the hilts of spears and battleaxes poking through the endless sea of Darkness. A few lone, near destroyed towers loomed in the distance.  
He took a step forward and immediately kicked something that rang with a _clank_.  
He looked down and his pupils shrunk. He picked up the object.  
It was a helmet. It was a very _familiar_ helmet.  
  
Looking up, his face went white once he noticed the destroyed carts that blocked half the road, as well as what looked like something shambling in the distance.  
He pulled his sword and slowly approached whatever was moving.  
He drew close and ducked behind a destroyed wall. He peeked over the top and had to clap a hand over his mouth.  
Shambling and staggering, the being was a soldier. His body was nearly consumed by globs of inky Darkness, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Peeking from the Darkness was a pink crest.  
“A soldier from Meanswell.” Sportacus said in a hushed voice.  
Said soldier was soon joined by seven more, all in various states of consumption by the Darkness’s horrid essence, all shambling with nary a sign of life in their eyes. They all stumbled around, almost forming a sort of scouting assembly as they wandered the destroyed town.  
Looking into the distance, he could see dozens of other soldiers in similar states, all shambling and staggering through the landscape, all dripping with the Darkness’s ooze, all groaning in hollow voices that felt uncomfortably inhuman.  
As soon as the coast was clear, Sportacus emerged from his hiding spot and scouted around the area the unfortunate soldiers once inhabited. He could see, poking from the ooze, the destroyed remains of catapults and carts. A lone flag, bearing the crest of the Kingdom of Meanswell, stood tall in the Darkness, flapping weakly in the breeze. Helmets and the remains of other pieces of armor and weapons dotted the area and the ground had been trekked to a mixture of mud and Darkness.

Sportacus staggered back, his heart beating ever faster in his ears as he looked feverishly about. His face grew damp with sweat as he continued to circle and gawk, his eyes pinning smaller.  
He blinked. For a moment, the scene changed.  
The torn flag that bore the crest of Meanswell changed to the crest of Alfenheim. The ooze covered not armor and weapons, but _bodies_.  
He saw his neighbors, his old colleagues, strewn before them.  
The sky filled with smoke.  
His eyes watered as he stepped back and nearly tripped on a boot laid on the ground.  
His breathing grew shallow as he looked about and shook his head.  
_This wasn’t real._  
A shadow of something big darted behind a rock. Familiar, yet not familiar.  
  
“Oh…oh, no. Sportacus, over there. A carriage.” Robbie said sadly.  
Robbie’s voice broke through Sportacus’s vision, and the area returned to its ruined, but real, state. Sportacus blinked away the tears and settled his breathing, the visions finally gone.  
Finally collected, he looked to his left.

A carriage indeed stood there, half buried in the mud and Darkness, its single attached wheel still spinning lamely in the breeze. Several flags with the Meanswell crest still hung from its top, and the door had been broken open.  
Sportacus approached it and soon spotted something shining in the silk seat.  
A crown.  
His heart dropped, and his ears drooped.  
“Oh no.” He said.  
“Poor Princess Stephanie.” Said Robbie solemnly.  
Sportacus re-sheathed Robbie and fell to one knee. He bowed his head lowly as he held silent for several minutes, his eyes shut.  
“May the Goddess bring peace to their souls.” Said Sportacus quietly as he finally rose.

It was as he rose, however, that a disconcerting, gurgling sound reached his ears.

Sportacus just managed to turn and pull Robbie when the source of the noise leapt at him with bared teeth and goop covered arms. He jumped back, his attacker slamming down onto the ground.  
The attacker rose his head, half consumed by the ooze, but nonetheless recognizable to Sportacus.  
He’d last seen his face in the portraits of Meanswell castle.  
“ _Your majesty…_ ” He whispered in horror.  
The man that was once King Meanswell stumbled onto his feet, his balance swaying and his eyes glassy and unfocused. A mixture of drool and Darkness dripped from his exposed chin as he charged forward, his hands aimed towards Sportacus’s throat.  
Sportacus gasped and, unwilling to strike the king, he simply blocked.  
Robbie, however, was more willing.  
“ _Sunlight_!” shouted Robbie, a bright beam of light erupting from his gemstone.  
The corrupted king shrieked as the light penetrated through his being, melting away the Darkness that covered his body and incinerating its essence. When the light faded, the king’s newly freed body collapsed to the earth and laid still.  
Sportacus opened his eyes and stared in shock, nearly missing the groaning sounds behind him. He swung around quickly and clocked another corrupted soldier with his elbow. Robbie continued to shout out his spell, taking out soldier after soldier, but they simply kept coming.  
A soldier Sportacus missed swung its hand and slapped Sportacus against his cheek, splattering some of the Darkness against his skin. Sportacus yelped and jumped away, bringing his sleeve to quickly wipe away the ooze. The burn remained, seething and angry, against his skin.  
Three soldiers charged at him. Reluctantly, Sportacus swung at them, cleaving several of their bodies and sending them tumbling to the ground.  
“ _Sunlight! Sunlight!_ ” Robbie shouted repeatedly as the bursts of light took out more corrupted soldiers.  


But with each soldier felled, two more seemed to take their place. The corrupted Meanswell soldiers continued to converge, with Sportacus backing up and either slashing or blasting them, until he felt something sharp dig at his back.  
He looked behind him. He’d been backed into the jagged remains of a metal barrier.  
He was effectively cornered.  
He heard panting and looked down at Robbie, his gemstone flickering weakly.  
“Robbie, are you okay?” asked Sportacus.  
“R-Running out of stamina. I’m out of practice, no surprise.” Robbie gasped. “I think I’m out for now.”  
“They’re still coming though. Try to rest fast.” Sportacus said fearfully as he swung at three more soldiers. Those soldiers fell and were soon trampled by another three corrupted soldiers, all staring with gaped mouths and clasping hands.  
Sportacus stood his guard, continuing to block and slash, but he knew he was running out of time. Soon enough, he’d tucker out, and the corrupted soldiers would have their advantage. He’d made a mistake allowing himself to be cornered, and he desperately needed help.  
But there was no one there.

…or.

“Heads up!”

Sportacus looked overhead as someone small and swift leapt over his barrier, dropping something small and spherical underneath him. The object swiftly dropped and, upon colliding with the head of one soldier, exploded in a dazzling yet blinding display of light and noise. The corrupted soldiers shrieked, and the sound of sizzling and hissing filled the air. Sportacus forced his eyes shut to block out the blinding light.  
Once it faded, he opened his eyes and gaped at the collapsed soldiers, no longer maligned by the Darkness, that laid on the ground before him.  
He looked up. Standing a distance away from him was a boy, about ten years old. His hair was like a dandelion, if orange, and he wore a pair of chunky looking goggles framed with leather.  
He slipped the goggles upwards and grinned at the sight. He tossed one of the balls in his hand.  
“Twelve at once! That’s got to be a new record.” He commented excitedly.  
Sportacus blinked in disbelief, his grip still firm on his sword.  
The boy looked over and gave a friendly wave.  
“Hey! You okay over there?” He asked.  
“Y-Yes, just a little shaken up.” Sportacus said as he carefully stepped over the fallen soldiers.  
“Makes sense! Most people don’t like dealing with _one_ of those guys. Glad I came along when I did!” laughed the boy.  
“What the heck did you throw at those things??” asked Robbie.  
“Oh these?” asked the boy as he lifted the ball. “Just a little something I invented. Magic grenades, that’s what I call them.”  
Sportacus admired the ball with wonder to the point that when the boy extended his hand, he was slightly startled.  
“Pixel’s the name, inventing is my game! Who are you?” asked Pixel.  
Sportacus gave a small smile and took his hand.  
“Sportacus of Alfenheim. And this here is my friend Robbie.” He said.  
“Thanks for saving our asses.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus gave him a look as Pixel chuckled.  
“No problem! Have to look out for each other in a place like this. Speaking of which, _why_ in the _world_ are you out here??”

Before Sportacus could answer, a low groan was heard several feet away.

Pixel frowned and cursed under his breath.  
“Darn it! They’ve found us. We better get somewhere safe; I really don’t want to have to use the last ones I have if I have to.” Pixel said as he gestured Sportacus to follow. “Come! My place is safe.”  
Sportacus didn’t question him as he whistled for Loftskip and ran after the hastily running Pixel.

\--

He followed after Pixel for several yards, dodging pools of hissing Darkness and crumbled buildings. The boy’s sights were fixed upon a structure in the distance, a lone tower that rose above the ruins and wreckage.

As they drew close, Sportacus noticed the multiple different flags waving from the top of the tower, several torn and ragged. Random pulleys and buckets swung from the sides of the tower, and different piles of garbage surrounded the isolated plot, mostly composed of metal scraps and pieces of broken wood.  
The two drew to a slow as they approached the furthest pile of garbage, with Pixel sighing comfortably at the sight.  
“Careful around the garbage piles. Last time I riffled through them there were a few rats in them.”  
“Duly noted.” Robbie said disgustedly.  
Sportacus looked about at the cluttered area.  
“So, the garbage…?” He asked.  
“Pieces for inventions! By the way, I should you warn you in advance. My folks are a little…eccentric. They’re great, but definitely don’t be shocked if they act a little strange.” Said Pixel as he lifted his goggles up.  
The boy first approached the heavily barricaded and locked door. He stepped off to the side and, carefully, reached around and knocked.  
Sportacus jumped back as a flowerpot dropped from a previously unseen pulley and careened into the ground, smashing into hundreds of pieces.  
“Who goes there?? Are you an ooze fiend??” bellowed a voice. “Have you been concussed? Please, tell me, how did it feel? Rate the pain from a one to a ten!”  
“Just me, Dad. And I’m not concussed.” Pixel answered.  
“Pixel? Oh goodness boy, you _know_ you’re supposed to knock _five_ times! Remember, five times for you, any less or more then you’re a goopy monster and will be beaned!” responded the voice.  
“Sorry!” Pixel said. “We have guests, by the way!”  
“Guests?” asked the voice.

Sportacus listened and cocked his head curiously as he heard multiple locks twisting and clicking, almost ten by his count, before the door swung open.

The man who poked his head from the doorway was certainly an eccentric looking fellow, Pixel hadn’t lied. His father had a head of messy, thick gray hair matched with a wrinkled, pale face obscured by a pair of far too large goggles. He was dressed in ragged, old robes of the orange variety and was carrying what looked like a pair of tongs.

Pixel’s dad. scrutinized Sportacus, with him adjusting a set of levels attached to the side of his goggles.  
“Hmm, Pixel? Who is this mysterious warrior?” He asked.  
“His name is Sportacus! I found him fighting off some of the corrupted soldiers!” said Pixel.  
“Was he now?”  
“Yes sir.” Said Sportacus. “Your son saved us back there too. One second later and we might’ve been goners.”  
Pixel’s dad looked back at Sportacus and adjusted with the levers once more, the aperture on the goggles shrinking.  
He fixed them upon Sportacus until, rather suddenly, he jumped back.  
“Jumping jelly jams!” He exclaimed. “Pixel, boy! I see you neglected to tell me that he’s the chosen hero of legend!”  
“The what?? He’s what??” asked Pixel in confusion.  
Pixel’s dad ran out of the tower and immediately took Sportacus’s hand. He vigorously shook it with a strength surprising for the older man.  
“Ah, how wonderful! Yes, simply wonderful! Yes, I’ve been waiting for _you_ , Sportacow!” He said. “Artemis, famous researcher, at your service!”  
Robbie snickered.  
“Uh thank you Artemis, and it’s _Sportacus_.” Sportacus politely corrected as he shot his friend a look.  
“Yes, yes! Please, Sportadust, come inside! Quickly now! It’s quite inhospitable out here with all those oozy nasties wandering about out there.” Said Artemis as he pulled Sportacus towards the door.  
Pixel slipped in first, but not before giving Sportacus an apologetic look.   
“Sorry, his hearing is a little shot. Blame it on the experiments.” He said in a hushed voice.  
Sportacus and Artemis followed close behind.

The inside of the tower was much like the outside: a cluttered variety of different gadgets, pulleys, gears, pipes, and more that filled nearly every inch of space. The room was filled with the sounds of creaking gears and hissing pipes, with the room still pleasantly warm despite the amount of steam. Bookshelves stuffed with books, scrolls, and tomes bordered the walls, broken up by the occasional table filled with random, unidentifiable junk and devices.  
Sitting in the center of the room was what looked like an old well filled with a mysteriously glowing pool of water. And sat at the edge of said water was a figure cloaked in what looked like multiple layers of patterned robes with no less than three hoods obscuring their face. Their hands were the only part of them visible, which currently clutched a chipped and aged teacup.  
Artemis shut the door behind them and sighed loudly.  
“Welcome to our humble abode!” He announced proudly as he strode in front of Sportacus. “What do you think, hero? Quite impressive, isn’t it?”  
“It’s…something, that’s for sure.” Said Sportacus as he goggled at the sheer number of bottles hanging from the ceiling.  
“It sure is something.” Robbie agreed.  
“It’s a testament to our research! A pure monument of discovery, curiosity, and invention! It’s beautiful and awe-inspiring, I’m sure of it!” boasted Artemis as he nearly danced over to the cloaked person.  
He cupped their shoulder and gave them a good shake.  
“Dear! We have company!” He said.  
The person lifted their face sharply, with Sportacus realizing that the person was an old woman whose eyes seemed quite unfocused. She sharply shook her teacup.  
“Yes, yes! I know, I’ve known for days! The tea leaves said we’d have an important visitor and here he is! And you say my leaves are inaccurate hogwash!” She said.  
“Only because just yesterday you said our guest would be a seventeen-foot tall troll with polka-dotted tusks and I’m certain our guest is not that!” answered Artemis.  
“Well, at times the leaves get confused. Everyone has their off days.” Remarked the woman matter-of-factly.

Sportacus wandered over to one of the tables where a variety of balls much like the ones Pixel was carrying sat. He picked one up and turned it about.  
“Ah, ah! Careful, those are very volatile.” Said Artemis as he swiftly sped over and plucked the ball from Sportacus’s hand.  
“Excuse me.” Said Pixel as he scooched past and carefully returned the last few balls to the table.  
“Excellent, aren’t they? I know they must be fascinating.” Grinned Artemis.  
“They definitely are. Pixel said they were ‘magic grenades’?” asked Sportacus.  
“Indeed! Pure magic weaponized and compacted by stave-encompassed strips of leather and paper. I don’t generally condone weaponizing anything, but with the times we live in you can’t be too picky, especially when it’s so effective!” Artemis noted.  
“I’ll admit, it’s refreshing to meet someone who’s actually _attempting_ to prepare for the Darkness. Seems everyone else has no clue what’s going on.” Remarked Robbie.  
“Of course, my mysteriously talking weapon friend! And even not, well, have you gotten a good _look_ around this place?? It’s nothing but rubble! To live here is simply mad!” Artemis said as he grabbed a ring of keys off the wall.  
“Then why live here? Why not move?” asked Sportacus.  
“Two words: testing material. With so much Darkness’s essence here, we have plenty to test our little magical projectiles on! No need to search out wells of evil and corruption on our own when we have some at our doorstep. True, that raid a while ago has made using these pools…well, a little sticky, to say the least. But progress can’t stop for grieving.” Artemis said as he thumbed through the books on a shelf.  
Pixel grimaced.  
“Apologies, he doesn’t mean to sound insensitive. I’m afraid my dad gets a bit caught up in the moment.” He said.  
“Ah! Yes! Here my boy, go read through this. This should help us figure out something to get our grenade’s blast radius a little bigger.” Said Artemis as he tossed the book.  
Pixel caught it with wide eyes.  
“Start reading through that. I have something to show our guest.” Artemis said as he gestured for Sportacus to follow.  
Pixel nodded and sat himself by the well, next to Artemis’s wife. He opened the book quietly.

With that, Sportacus followed after the strange researcher, who walked up a set of stone stairs.  
“So, Artemis, if I may ask…how long _has_ this town been…um, destroyed?” asked Sportacus.  
“Hmm? Oh, sometime ago! Couldn’t tell you how long, but once it started, it was like a plague! Town was overrun with Darkness, corrupting anything it touched, taking over the dead. Green Plains didn’t last too long, as you might’ve guessed.” Artemis said.  
“Is…was this always your home?” asked Sportacus.

Artemis paused for a moment.

“Well…yes. But science has no room for grieving. You can’t save every piece of life after all, it…it just shows the weakness in our defenses. Live and learn.” He said with forced passiveness.  
Sportacus’s ears drooped as he grimaced.  
“Nevertheless,” Artemis said, clearing his throat. “onwards.”  
Sportacus followed along with a frown.  
“I realize I should’ve told you this as soon as I saw you. You see, we may be here researching and creating those magical grenades, but I have a personal project _far_ more important than any of that.” Artemis started.  
He stopped and shrugged.  
“Well, _nearly_ more important than the grenades. Can’t take away all of my son and I’s credit.” “Will it kill us?” asked Robbie.  
“Robbie, come now.” Sportacus hushed.  
“No! No death today. Or…whoops. Sorry, we don’t have guests too often, I should say we have no death _ever_. No, I assure you this is most undeadly.” Artemis said as he fiddled with the first of several locks on an old, wooden door.  
Sportacus looked down uneasily at his friend.  
“Hey Sportacus. There’s a door down there. You know what we should do? _Use it_.” Robbie hissed.  
“Hold on, Robbie. I’m sure this won’t be anything too bad.” Whispered Sportacus.  
“That man just had to clarify that no one usually _dies_ here, I’m not confident.”  
“Well, remember? Magic armor and you can use magic. We’ll be fine.”  
“Ergh, fine. But if we get dismembered, I’m blaming you.”

“Ah, there we go! The secret sanctum!” announced Artemis as the door swung open.  
He grabbed a torch off the wall.  
“Follow me.”  
Sportacus, cautiously, followed Artemis inside the darkened room.  
Artemis held the torch out in front of him and walked inside slowly. He felt around at the wall until his hand met an indent in the wall. He tilted the torch into the indent and, suddenly, a ring of flame encircled the room, illuminating it instantly.  
The room was small, with a set of stairs leading to a smaller platform. On this platform was a table, and on this table was a litany of tools and epoxies. Something shimmered on the table.  
“What is all this?” asked Sportacus.  
Artemis gestured towards the table silently.  
Sportacus followed.  
“Sportacus,” started Artemis. “you’ve found nearly all of the blessed armor, haven’t you?”  
“Y-Yes.” Sportacus answered. “We’ve been looking for the last piece, but we had no clue where to start.”  
“Well, here it is.” Said Artemis as he pointed to the shimmering object on the table.  
Sportacus looked over at the table, his eyes widening.  
The object, as he soon saw, was mostly composed of glass. _Shattered_ glass. Said shattered glass fit mostly within the circumference of a simple, metal ring. Said metal ring was rusted and brittle-looking.  
Sportacus looked over at Artemis with a quizzical expression.  
“Um, what exactly _is_ it?” asked Robbie.  
“That, gentlemen, is the Blessed Seeing Glass. The last piece of your blessed armor! Remarkable, isn’t it?” asked Artemis.  
“It’s…remarkably _broken_ , that’s for sure.” Sportacus answered, his arms crossing.  
“Yes, very observant of you. You see, this has been my family’s project for generations.” Said Artemis. “Hundreds of years ago, when the armor was first gifted by the Goddess and entrusted into the care of the various kingdoms, this Seeing Glass was protected by the fallen kingdom of Mirefjall.”  
“How did it break?” asked Robbie.  
“Well, there’s always been hoodlums and low-lives that are a bit backwards and prefer to worship the name of the All-Consuming God of Darkness. I’ve never quite understood why, you can tell what he’s like from his _name_ alone!” Artemis chuckled. “But anyways, a group of these hoodlums attempted to steal the Blessed Seeing Glass from the castle of Mirefjall and, well, had a little slip-up. The clumsy oafs dropped the glass and it shattered into all these pieces you see here.”  
Artemis stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed.  
“And ever since then, my ancestors have worked on piecing together and repairing the glass to no such luck. Personally, I’d say I’ve gotten the closest to getting it repaired, but the darned thing doesn’t respond to any sort of epoxy or glue that exists or not! The glass falls out as soon as you try.” He said.  
“What exactly is it supposed to do?” asked Sportacus.

Artemis paused, his expression blanking.

“You know…I plum do not know.” He said, scratching his head. “It’s funny, all these centuries and no one’s quite sure what this part’s purpose is! I guess that’s why none of the kingdoms were too terribly worried when this thing broke.”  
Sportacus frowned.  
“All we know is that it’s very important and, right now, it’s very broken. That’s where you come in!” said Artemis with a grin.  
“What?” said Sportacus, until it stuck. “Oh! Right! Maybe the glass will repair itself once I try to pick it up!”  
“That has been how it’s worked in the past.” Mused Robbie with an audible smirk.  
“Then what are you waiting for? Pick it up! I want to see what it looks like in its glory!” Artemis said eagerly.  
“Right!” said Sportacus cheerily as he grabbed the ring.  
He lifted the ring up…and left all the glass behind.  
Sportacus paused, the joy draining from his face.  
“Oh…right. Uh, hold on.” He said as he attempted to sweep the glass into his hand.  
“Don’t do that! If even one piece is out of line, the glass won’t reassemble, and I’ll have another few decades of work that I can’t afford!” shouted Artemis fearfully.  
“Okay, makes sense.” Said Sportacus as he stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “But I _need_ to be able to pick it up, _all_ of it, at once. How?”  
“Ahem.” Said Robbie as he hopped out of his sheath.  
He bounced himself onto the table and stood upright.  
“I know you really love to do everything _yourself_ , hero.” He said.  
Sportacus gave him a look paired with a smirk.  
“But I think for once you’ll need some assistance with this one.” Said Robbie, his gemstone glowing.  
“Do you think you can be careful?” asked Sportacus cheekily.  
“Hey. I’m a _professional_ mage trapped in a sword. You think I can’t delicately float a few thousand pieces of glass in an exact pattern and sequence?” said Robbie as he turned to the broken glass.  
“When you put it like that…”  
“Exactly. Now stop underestimating me and hold up the ring.” Robbie said.

Sportacus shook his head with a fond smile as he held up the rusted ring.  
Robbie cleared his throat, his gemstone beginning to glow brighter.  
The pieces of broken glass shimmered and shone, twinkles of purple magic dashing off the pieces as they floated gently upwards, a few pieces spinning and twirling as they did.  
Meticulously, Robbie set each piece within the metal ring, piece by piece, holding them fast with every additional piece.  
Artemis, watching from the side, took a cloth to his brow and wiped away the sweat.  
“Careful…careful…” He muttered worriedly.  
Sportacus bit his lip as he watched the glass form.  
Minutes passed, agonizing minutes. Thousands of pieces were placed with utmost care and precision, until one last piece remained.  
“Moment of truth. You ready?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Alright, here we go.” Sighed Robbie as the last piece floated into place.  
A small chime noise rang out as the last piece, the middle one, was set.

At first, nothing happened. The glass hung together precariously, supported only by Robbie’s magical aura.

Then, like the other armor pieces before them, the seeing glass exploded into an awe-inspiring display of golden light and sparkles.  
Unlike the other pieces, however, the seeing glass burst into parts, separating and holding in mid-air for just a moment.  
Then, just as suddenly, the pieces shot back together, fusing once more into a single object which fell into Sportacus’s open hands.  
The new blessed seeing glass was framed by gold shaped like a teardrop, with a loop at the top where a thin, gold chain was threaded through. The glass shimmered like diamonds in the torchlight, with the leaf-like detailing on the golden rim sparkling with the glass.  
Sportacus held up the glass to his eye to look through. Much to his disappointment, however, nothing appeared to look different.  
“It’s more brilliant than I could’ve ever imagined. And I know! I’ve tried to picture it. I’ve got sketches.” Commented Artemis with an appreciative smile.  
“It doesn’t seem to change anything.” Noted Sportacus.  
“Really? Let me see.” Said Artemis as he took the glass and held it up to his eye. “Well, what do you know? That is strange. Did you _actually_ fix it or…?”  
“It’s _fixed_.” Robbie growled. “Maybe we’re using it wrong.”  
“But what’s the correct way to use it then?” puzzled Sportacus.  
“This is a conundrum.” Said Artemis thoughtfully.  
Sportacus, looking disappointedly at the glass, quietly slipped the chain around his neck and tucked the glass into his shirt.  
“And there you have it! Your armor is complete! You must feel quite powerful.” Artemis said enthusiastically.  
“Not really.” Sportacus admitted. “I mean, this armor is strong, but…I don’t feel any different having it all together.”  
He looked at his hands.  
“Not even sure if I have _anything_ together.” He said quietly.  
Robbie looked over at his friend.  
“Are you okay?” He asked.  
Sportacus looked over at his friend, his mouth opening.

Before he could answer, the door slammed open, catching the three’s attentions.

Artemis’s wife came running in frantically, her hands shakily holding her teacup away from her.  
“Posey! What’s going on? Careful! You’ll trip!” said Artemis worriedly.  
“The horror! The horror!” She shrieked and cried as she thrusted the teacup into Sportacus’s hands.  
Sportacus hesitated before he looked down into the cup, his brow furrowing.  
The tea leaves, soggy and dark, formed what looked like a long arm with a hand. Said hand had pointed, sharp claws for fingers. The rest of the leaves formed a lump at the corner.  
“The hand of Malsterath! It extends from its tomb and brings the end! The end!” cried Posey hysterically.  
“Dear! Calm yourself! They’re just tea leaves! Remember, they’ve been wrong before.” Artemis soothed.  
“This is far more serious, Artie! This is the All-Consuming God of Darkness, and he’s here!” Posey screamed.  
“Please, Posey! It’s okay! We’ll be okay.” Artemis said in a hushed voice.  
“Dad!” Pixel panted as he ran in. “T-The Darkness! I-It’s acting…it’s acting odd.”  
“What??” Odd how?” asked Artemis.  
“Well, look!” Pixel said as he gestured the group to follow.  
The group quickly followed after the boy, everyone near flying down the stairs.  
Pixel threw open the front door and pointed to the ground outside.  
The others stared out, their faces graying and eyes widening.  
“Oh goddess…” said Artemis.

The Darkness’s pools and essence, once laying still and stagnating in the ground, now slid like snakes across the earth, driving at a rapid speed over hills and rocks, singing all they touched. Hissing and wailing rang through the air with the corrupted soldiers, the ones that remained, stumbling and charging away from the destroyed town and towards the west.

Sportacus’s heart fell as he helplessly watched the Darkness swirl and depart, too much fleeing for him to even start to think of a method to contain it.  
“It’s all heading west, Dad.” Pixel said weakly. “I-I don’t know why though, it all just started leaving.”  
“I know why.” Said Sportacus.  
The group looked at him.  
Sportacus thickly swallowed.  
“Posey is right. The end is coming.” He said. “And the only kingdom that lays in that direction…is Meanswell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the quest to find the armor is complete! Hopefully Sportacus and Robbie found it all in time.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	21. The Battle

Lord Meanswell, atop his steed, trotted past the last line of soldiers and atop a small lip of rock.   
  
His steed snorted and shook its head as he looked towards the horizon.  
A cool wind blew through the air, fluttering the flags that hung high from their pikes. Pink mixed with sky blue and red in the colorful banners.  
His stare remained on the horizon.  
For now, there was a near silence.  
But if the reports they received were right, that would end very soon.  
Another set of hooves tapped along, and another horse joined his.  
Lord Meanswell looked over at Kilgrim, who rode atop a mighty draft horse, the largest in the Meanswell stables. His Warhammer slung over his back swayed slightly.  
Kilgrim took a ragged breath and spat out a gob of spit.  
“What’ya think? Odds for us, or against us?” asked Kilgrim.  
“Do you really want an answer?” asked Lord Meanswell grimly.  
“Keep hopes high, remember.” Kilgrim said, his attention switching to the horizon.

A low rumbling rang out, catching the attentions of the different soldiers and warriors.

Kilgrim drew his hammer and held it at the ready.  
Lord Meanswell blew a ragged sigh and pulled his sword. He shakily held it up.  
“Where’s Valda?” asked Lord Meanswell.  
“Up on the wall, guiding the archers.” Replied Kilgrim. “I see you’re nervous.”  
“You can tell?”  
“You’re attempting small talk, of course I can tell.”  
Lord Meanswell chuckled.  
“I suppose it’s obvious.” He admitted.  
Kilgrim looked over at the lord.  
“Keep your head high, lord. See this as a day of victory, no matter what occurs.” He said.  
“I am not a fighter, Kilgrim. I never wanted to fight.” Said Lord Meanswell. “But I will fight for the kingdom.”  
“That’s the spirit.” Said Kilgrim with a smile.

Their attention fell back to the horizon as a warning horn sounded through the air.  
The two squinted, their attention focusing on the upper crest of the hills.  
Barely, just barely, they could see the hill’s top be stained black.  
Creatures of the Darkness, both creatures completely composed of its essence and poor souls corrupted by it, charged over the hill, carrying a variety of weapons, screaming wildly.  
“Lower your shields, warriors!” Kilgrim shouted.  
The warriors and soldiers of both groups lowered their shields in a defensive wall.  
Kilgrim looked over to Lord Meanswell.  
“They await your command.” He said.  
Lord Meanswell nodded and pulled his visor down. He pointed his sword towards the advancing wall of enemies.

“Soldiers of Meanswell! Warriors of Dragonshelm! Advance! Charge!” He cried.

The battle horn and drums rang out, and the soldiers shouted in response.

The sound of pounding feet filled the air, deafening the morning air and the normal ambience.

The war had begun.

\--

Sportacus slung the blessed seeing glass over his neck as he mounted Loftskip.

“Wait, Sportacus! Don’t go!” Pixel said hastily.  
“I have to! If the Kingdom of Meanswell is under attack by the Darkness, I must get there to help protect them!” Sportacus protested as he prepared to crack Loftskip’s reins.  
“I mean that you won’t make it in time!” said Pixel.  
“Pixel’s right, Sportacus! Meanswell is several hours away from here. If you go by horse, you could be too late!” Posey said fearfully.  
“Well, how _else_ am I supposed to reach the kingdom?? There’s nothing faster than a horse!” Sportacus said exasperatedly.  
“What if there is?” said Pixel.  
Sportacus looked at the youth curiously.  
“What are you talking about?”  
“I may have invented something.” Pixel said with a proud grin. “Behind the tower.”

He ran behind the tower and Sportacus followed atop Loftskip.

By the time he reached the back of the tower, Pixel was standing in front of something rather large, far larger than a horse, hidden beneath a beige tarp. He was frantically untying several ropes that held the tarp down.  
“Dad has _his_ secret project, but this one is mine. I’ve been fascinated with this concept since I first saw the dragons in the Northern mountains.” Pixel explained as he pulled the tarp.  
Sportacus and Robbie gasped.  
Beneath the tarp, the invention looked like a wooden dragon, however it had far more wings than a typical dragon. The base was built of wood, with the front ending upon an intricately carved dragon’s head, like a Viking’s ship. It had six wings, stacked with space between each set in a vertical arrangement and held apart by wooden posts. The wings appeared made of canvas. A barrel-like object sat at its rear, and ample space was in the middle. Said invention was supported by three spokes with small, wagon wheels.  
“I call it…the _dragon glider_.” Grinned Pixel. “I predict it’ll get us to Meanswell in less than half the time it’d take on horseback. Not bad, huh?”  
“It’s… _wow_.” Sportacus said quietly.  
“It’s _amazing_.” Said Robbie.  
Pixel smiled thankfully.  
“It should be able to carry us and a payload. All we need to do is get it up front!” He said.  
The group made short work of latching a rope to Loftskip’s saddle, with Sportacus coaxing her to pull the dragon glider to the front of the tower. Artemis and Posey stared in shock.  
“Is _that_ what you’ve been working on for months??” asked Artemis.  
“Yeah, why else would I need so many yards of canvas?” Pixel said with a smirk.  
“Fair point.” Artemis said.  
“Mom, can you get the big magical grenades? We’ll need some offensive weapons for when we fly to Meanswell!” Pixel asked as Sportacus untied the rope from Loftskip’s saddle.  
“Of course!” said Posey as she dashed inside.  
“I imagine you’re planning on piloting this?” asked Artemis as he admired the craft.  
Pixel nodded.  
“I don’t believe Sportacus would know how to pilot the glider.” He said.  
“Nope. No clue.” Sportacus said as he boarded the glider. “Wait, how will we get Loftskip aboard?”  
“I’ll levitate her.” Robbie offered.  
Artemis smiled fondly at his adopted son before he hugged him.  
“Be careful then. And remember! Write down your observations whenever you get a chance! Posey and I will hold down the fort here!”  
Pixel hugged his father back.  
“I love you, Dad.” He said quietly.

“I got the payload!” announced Posey as she precariously carried an armful of basketball-sized magic grenades.  
She dropped them rather carelessly in a receptacle on the bottom of the glider, earning a cringe from Pixel and Artemis.  
Posey smiled at Pixel and, after running over, hugged him as well.  
“You’re going to do great. My tea leaves I’m sure will predict your safe return.” She said.  
Sportacus watched with a slightly sad smile at the display. His thoughts returned to his family in Alfenheim.  
He hoped, maybe, he’d have a return like that when he came home.  
Pixel gave his parents one last squeeze before he ran over and onto the glider. He pulled his goggles over his eyes before he motioned for Sportacus.  
“We need someone to light the ignition. It’ll give us the boost to get airborne!” Pixel said.  
“Got it! Are you ready?” asked Sportacus.  
Pixel nodded.  
Sportacus looked back and, exhaling, he pointed his finger at the barrel-like object.  
“ _Ignite!_ ” he shouted, a small burst of blue magic shooting from his finger.  
The spark hit the barrel and, like a thunderclap, it boomed with a burst of blue flames that shot the glider forward.  
“ _Levitate!_ ” Robbie scrambled to shout as his aura just narrowly managed to snag Loftskip as they sailed across the ground.  
Pixel pulled up on the yaw and the dragon glider shot upwards, far over the ruined town and towards the clouds. Sportacus held back a mixed scream of fear and delight as they bolted further upwards, only leveling out once they’d reached a point slightly below the clouds.  
Sportacus peered over the edge and looked in awe.  
Lazyfell looked like a blanket of green and brown below him, the land he spent weeks traveling reduced to such a small smattering of land and water. He wondered if the dragons felt the same way he felt being up in the air for the first time.  
Pixel adjusted a few ropes and glanced at his compass.  
“I’m directing us west! Keep an eye out for any landmarks, keep in mind this is my first flight!” Pixel said.  
“Got it!” responded Sportacus as he looked out across the land.

In the distance he saw plumes of smoke. Part of him knew that was where they were heading, but another part of him wished those plumes didn’t mean what he feared they meant. He prayed that Meanswell would still be in one piece when he arrived.

\--

The plumes of smoke stretched across the sky, their trails visible from all corners of the country, drawing attentions and concerned glances towards their arrival.

Dinah was amongst these people. She stood at the edge of the gorge, her eyes directed towards the sky. She stared at the smoke, thoughts rambling through her head.  
She felt distinctly conflicted.  
Her eyes fell to where the smoke grew in the horizon. She guessed it was from a few hours away, where one kingdom in particular lay.  
She crossed her arms, her eyes closing as she sighed.  
“Mom? Is everything okay?” asked Trixie.  
Dinah looked back at her daughter.  
“No. I feel conflicted, dear.” She said.  
“Conflicted? Why?” asked Trixie.  
“There’s smoke in the sky.” Dinah said. “The smoke is coming from the Kingdom of Meanswell.”  
“An invasion?” asked Trixie.  
“Far more.” Dinah said solemnly as she shook her head. “I believe the end times are upon us, Trixie. The Darkness is rising up.”  
“B-But we have Sportacus, right? He has the blessed armor.” Said Trixie.  
“Yes, but we can’t depend on him alone.” Said Dinah as she started towards the walkway. “We must do something to assist.”  
“But why mother?? Meanswell was one of the biggest kingdoms that jailed our family! They _killed_ most of us? Why in the goddess’s name would we help them?!” Trixie protested angrily as she stomped her foot.

Dinah stopped.

“I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Sportacus. I told him saving our guild was hopeless. We are a doomed group.” She said.  
Trixie’s face fell.  
“But…” Dinah continued. “…perhaps _saving_ the guild is the incorrect action. After all, our guild does have principles, and there are people who had no part in hurting us in that kingdom whose lives are in danger.”  
She looked back at her daughter with a sad look.  
“Thus, perhaps instead of trying to survive, we should take this chance at one last, noble stand. At least if we were to be finished off, we could say that we died like the most noble warriors. We died with our honor.”  
Trixie shuffled in her place uncomfortably.  
“Not a good idea?” asked Dinah.  
“I don’t like thinking of dying.” Trixie mumbled.  
“Then, we simply won’t die.” Said Dinah as she approached and dried her tear. “Right? We’re quite capable fighters. Death is no guarantee.”  
“I guess.” Said Trixie.  
Dinah hugged her daughter.  
“Be brave, dear. We’re about to do the bravest thing in our guild’s history.” She said as she looked at the gorge.  
“Mom…how are we going to get to Meanswell in time? We have no horses.” Trixie asked.  
“Well…” Dinah said thoughtfully. “…I’m not sure.”

The ground began to shake, nearly toppling Dinah and Trixie over.

The two regained their balance as they looked about confusedly. Trixie looked to her left and tugged Dinah’s sleeve.  
“It’s…It’s…” She stammered.  
Dinah gasped in shock.  
Anamcha, his manes blowing in the wind, galloped mightily through the desert wastes. His eyes were fixed upon the smoke plumes, his claws digging forward.  
“H-Hey! Hey! Great beast!” shouted Trixie.  
“Trixie! No!” Dinah begged.  
Anamcha skidded to a stop, his gait slowing to a sort of trot as he looked around. He nodded as Trixie and Dinah ran towards him.  
“Well child, we meet again. You seem distressed.” He noted.  
“Are you heading towards Meanswell?” gasped Trixie as she caught up.  
Anamcha nodded sagely.  
“I smell the essence of Malsterath fuming from those fields. I would usually keep away from the matters of mortals, but his rebirth is far too grave to ignore.” He said.  
“We’re trying to reach Meanswell too. Is…Is there anyway we could join you?” Trixie asked weakly.  
Anamcha lowered his eyes upon Trixie, his nose drawing dangerously close to her.  
Dinah stepped between the two and drew her dagger.  
“Mother, no.” Trixie warned.  
“I’m not letting him hurt you.” Dinah said.  
“I will not hurt her, my lady.” Anamcha said. “I wish to only say that she owes me foremost. But…I shall put it aside for now. The world is in peril, and the issues of the near past must wait. Climb aboard.”  
“The others though!” remarked Trixie.  
Anamcha looked back at the gorge and shook his head, his horns glowing and flashing briefly. Instantly, the remaining assassins appeared before them, the assassins looking understandably startled.  
“Climb aboard.” Said Anamcha as he laid down.  
“Don’t be afraid and listen to him.” Dinah urged her family as they all, eventually, clambered aboard.

With all the assassins atop Anamcha, the great beast roared lowly before charging once more towards the horizon, his eyes fixed upon the smoke plumes.  
During this journey, Dinah clarified her plan, with the assassins taking the journey to adjust to the possible life-or-death mission.

\--

Kilgrim leapt from his horse, his hammer above his head, as he drove it down into a semi-tower of Darkness monsters, splattering the three beasts into piles of goop that sputtered onto his armor. He lifted his hammer and swung it behind him, taking out another four creatures, with said creatures being flung backwards.

Soldier after soldier charged forward, weapons at the ready, teeth gritted and eyes focused, at the nearest wave of Darkness creatures and corrupted soldiers that staggered and wailed their ways into battle. Darkness essence and worn shields crashed against shields, black mixing with pink and blue, the thudding of metal and wood filling the air like drums. Soldiers’ and warriors’ death cries echoed through the area, mixing with the shrieks and groans of felled Darkness creations and corrupted corpses.

Lord Meanswell snapped the reins of his horse and thundered horizontally to the waves of Darkness, lopping at the heads of a few with his sword as he rode. His eyes darted feverishly back and forth between the yet unpenetrated walls of the kingdom and the enraged hordes of monstrosities that seethed and begged for his kingdom’s destruction. He slashed at another three as he rode towards the first line of catapults stationed at the ready.  
Said ride was abruptly interrupted as something large and decidedly ooze-covered slammed into his body. Lord Meanswell was sent flying off his horse and crashing into the hillside, his side aching as he slammed against the hard ground.  
Getting only a moment to groan in pain, Lord Meanswell turned his attention to the monster that hissed and spat at his face. He lifted his sword and bunted at the beast, struggling and wrestling with the monster until the timely arrival of Kilgrim, who felled the monster with a single swing of his hammer.  
“Need a hand, lad?” He asked, extending his hand.  
Lord Meanswell thankfully accepted and was helped onto his feet. Panting lightly, he looked and spotted his horse a few feet away, its hooves tapping nervously as a few Darkness creatures harassed it.  
Lord Meanswell gritted his teeth and ran over. He swung his sword feverishly and managed to chase away the creatures, saving his horse.  
“Fire the catapults! Fire!” Lord Meanswell shouted, him waving his sword as he did.  
The order echoed through each catapult’s attendant, and the launch ropes were pulled. The wooden catapults groaned and creaked as they lobbed their payloads over the yards of battlefield.  
Lord Meanswell and Kilgrim watched as the rocks and piles of metal careened into the fields, denting and scarring the once pristine grasslands, the goop of several Darkness creatures flung up high.

However, they could plainly see that they were far from winning. More and more of the creatures charged over the hills in the horizon like a roaring river, flooding the lands with their essence.

Lord Meanswell’s face paled at the sight. Kilgrim, meanwhile, turned his sight up to the top of the wall.  
“Valda! Ready your archers!” He bellowed.  
“Aye!” Valda shouted back as she leaned over the wall.  
Standing tall, he addressed the Meanswell and Dragonshelm archers.  
“Aim high! On my call!” She said, holding up her fist.  
The archers drew back on their bows, pulling fast the drawstrings.  
Valda stared at the horizon, waiting until another cluster of Darkness monsters and corrupted soldiers filled the grasslands.  
“Fire!” shouted Valda as she pointed forward.  
Instantaneously, all of the archers released their arrows, a veritable hailstorm of pointed projectiles filling the air.  
“Shields up!” shouted Lord Meanswell.  
The Meanswell soldiers and Dragonshelm warriors lifted their shields like umbrellas just in time before the first set of arrows fell. They pinged like hailstones as creature after creature collapsed, their cries and gurgles echoing through the land.  
The creatures that had yet to charge forward atop the hill hesitated for a moment as they watched their comrades fall. A particularly large creature gurgled and hissed, its attention diverting momentarily to the east.  
It looked at its fellow monstrosities and chortled, before barging forward with a shriek, the others following suit.

The Meanswell soldiers and Dragonshelm warriors fought the remaining creatures in the increasingly muddy battlefield, some of their attentions turning up exasperatedly at the newest wave of creatures.  
Kilgrim looked uneasily at Lord Meanswell.  
“We’re going to need help.” Lord Meanswell muttered fearfully as he drew his sword and mounted his horse.  
“And _fast_.” Added Kilgrim as he prepared his hammer once more.

\--

The dragon glider soared through the endless clouds and wisps as it sailed over the fields of green and gray-blue mountains. Sportacus watched the passing sights with a sense of awe, with him carefully holding Robbie over to look at the sight.

Robbie, however, quickly backed up.  
“Oh, sorry, are you afraid of heights?” asked Sportacus.  
“N-No, of course not. I’m…just afraid of _falling_. Yeah.” Robbie countered.  
Sportacus chuckled and shook his head.  
“So, uh, how long until we get off this flying death trap, er, I mean beautiful flying device?” asked Robbie.  
“I don’t know actually.” Said Sportacus. “Pixel, how far are we off from Meanswell?”  
“I’d say another fifteen minutes, maybe less.” Pixel responded as he glanced at the horizon.  
He paused.  
“Boy, that smoke is growing bigger and darker…” He noted softly.  
Sportacus looked out and his lips drew into a thin line.  
“Sportacus, do you think we’ll make it in time? I mean, I know the glider is pretty fast and all, at least I think it is but…but what if – “Pixel started.  
“We can’t think like that.” Sportacus interrupted with a forced smile. “We’ll get there in time. Why? Because, uh, I know we will. Especially with you as our pilot!”  
“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not.” Pixel said weakly.  
“Have faith! We’re soaring pretty fast. We’ve shaved hours off our travel time already! We’re giving it our best to get there in time and…well, I just know we’ll make it. We’ll make it and save _everyone_.” Sportacus said, his eyes directing back to the horizon.  
Pixel looked at the hero worriedly.  
“So…I guess you’re not worried then? Not even a little?” He asked.

Sportacus’s smile faded slightly, the corners wavering.

His thoughts turned immediately to his own home, flashing back and forth between an image of a ruined Alfenheim and a ruined Meanswell. They looked much like the ruined Green Hills.

He shook his head and strengthened his smile.  
“Not a moment.” He said quietly.

“Um guys? A little situation going on below us.” Robbie noted nervously.  
Both Pixel and Sportacus looked over the edge, with Pixel gasping in shock and Sportacus’s face paling.  
Below them, charging like a streak of ink against green paper, was another line of corrupted soldiers and Darkness creatures, all shrieking and careening against the landscape, forming a triangle formation with the point pointing west.  
Flecks of pink polluted the black.  
“The soldiers from Meanswell. The ones from Green Hill.” Sportacus said in shock.  
“They’re going to ambush Meanswell. Will they be prepared for that?” asked Pixel.  
Sportacus shook his head as he drew Robbie.  
“We have to do something.” Said Sportacus.  
Pixel nodded.  
“I have just the solution.” He grinned as he fished for a loose string.  
He turned the yaw down and lowered the glider, dipping down until they were soaring several feet above the battalion of corruption.  
“Bombs away!” Pixel cried as he pulled on the string.  
From a receptacle on the underside of the dragon, a single magical grenade, the ones Posey had loaded so carelessly earlier, dropped down and hurtled towards the hordes of monstrosities.  
Seconds passed, agonizing seconds.

Then, the entire area below them was alight with a rainbow of light, sparkles, and whizzes.

The corrupted soldiers shrieked and squirmed, with several collapsing to the ground, the bodies free of the Darkness’s influence once and for all. The triangle formation broke into a wide ring around the impacted soldiers, the corrupted soldiers snarling and snapping in disgust at the pure magic swirling in the air.  
“Well, I’d say that was pretty potent.” Remarked Robbie as he whistled lowly.  
“Potent enough, but there’s still a lot of them.” Said Pixel grimly.  
One of the corrupted soldiers looked up and spotted the dragon glider. He snarled and shrieked, his ooze-covered finger pointing towards the sky. In unison, all the soldiers’ gazes snapped upwards.  
“Uh oh. We better get.” Pixel said as he yanked on the yaw.  
The glider climbed back upwards as spears and rocks were flung at its belly, with a few spears embedding themselves in the underside.  
“Do you think you could get one more shot in?” asked Sportacus.  
“Maybe! Hang on!” Pixel said as he veered to the left.  
He dared to dip down one more time, the glider soaring dangerously close to the grass that now tickled the dragon’s belly.  
The corrupted soldiers shrieked and charged towards the glider, their fingers digging aimlessly as they ran.  
Pixel kept the glider steady, his attention whipping back and forth from front to side, watching as the creatures drew closer.  
Sportacus uneasily readied Robbie, preparing for the moment where a soldier might find his way onto their aircraft.  
The creatures drew ever closer, their shrieks now ear-piercingly loud.

It was at that moment that Pixel yanked the yaw back upwards and just narrowly dodged the soldiers’ grips.  
“Fire in the hole!” shouted Pixel as he pulled the cord again.  
Another projectile was dropped from the glider’s underside and collided with more of the hoard, taking out a chunk of their numbers as they shrieked and yowled.  
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” cheered Pixel as he drew the glider back up to cruising height.  
Sportacus smiled and watched as the remaining corrupted soldiers regrouped, their attentions redirecting to the kingdom ahead.  
His smile faded, and he followed their eyelines. He gasped.  
“We’re here.” He said.  
Pixel looked forward and gasped as well.  
“Oh geez.” He said in a hushed voice.

The battlefield had reduced the grassy fields to nothing, but dirt churned with blood and Darkness, with fires dotting various points of the landscape and all the trees felled and broken into splinters. Masses of black nearly overshadowed the opposing mass of silver, pink, brown, blue, and red. Flags waved still through the air, but many were riddled with rips and tears. Screams and cries rang from below as another hail of stones were flung from the catapults.

Sportacus got up onto his knees and turned himself around to the still floating, still unhurt Loftskip, who hovered behind the aircraft.  
“You want down now?” asked Pixel.  
“If you can. Don’t get yourself into anything dangerous.” Sportacus asked.  
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” Pixel said with a grimace.  
Sportacus sheathed Robbie once more as he looked at him.  
“Are you ready to do this?” He asked.  
“You mean finally end the Darkness? Oh sure. Jumping from this aircraft? Never.” Robbie answered.  
“At least you’re honest.” Said Sportacus.  
“I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Sportadork.” Robbie said.  
“What do you want me to do?” Pixel asked as he dodged a volley of fiery rocks flung from the catapults.  
“Just get us close enough to the ground!” Sportacus said before he looked at Robbie once more. “Can you lower your levitation spell enough to get Loftskip up and running?”  
“Sure, but are we going to be atop her?” asked Robbie.  
“Not quite. Just trust me, okay?” said Sportacus.  
“I think for the first time in a long time I really don’t want to, but I pretty much have no choice, right?” said Robbie ruefully.  
“Dipping down!” called Pixel as he uneasily lowered the glider closer to the waves of Darkness monstrosities and corrupted soldiers.  
“Find a clear spot if you can!” cried Sportacus.  
“One’s coming up!”  
“Robbie! Lower Loftskip!”  
Robbie obliged and Loftskip was lowered closer to the ground. The mare stumbled and dug feverishly at the ground, trying to keep up her speed to the glider’s. She snorted and whinnied nervously and angrily.  
“It’s okay girl, you’re doing great.” Sportacus cooed weakly. “That’s it, keep running.”  
Loftskip’s clumsy running soon evened out to a steady gallop, her panting and snorting.  
“Ready! Be careful, Pixel!” shouted Sportacus.  
“Same to you! Good luck!” replied Pixel.

And with that and one more brace and exhale, Sportacus aimed himself and leapt off the tail of the glider.

He thrust himself forward, off slightly to the side of Loftskip, as Robbie’s levitation spell finally failed. His arms were aimed at the base of Loftskip’s neck.  
Ungracefully and rather roughly, he gained purchased with his arms wrapped around the base and flung himself around and onto the saddle, Loftskip protesting as he did.  
Sportacus panted, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he settled himself, his eyes darting around to prove that, yes, he had stuck the landing and hadn’t collided face-first with the earth and come to a rather embarrassing end.  
He grinned giddily and whooped as he turned Loftskip around and back towards the battlefield.  
“You ready to do this, Robbie?” asked Sportacus as he drew him.  
“Stop asking me that, you know I’m ready!” Robbie chastised.  
“Alright then! Let’s go!” Sportacus chuckled as he lifted Robbie and eyed the wall of Darkness creatures.  
Thundering forward, Sportacus drew the reins to the left, curving Loftskip as he swung and chopped at the Darkness creatures, sending them sprawling to the ground.  
“ _Sunlight!_ ” shouted Robbie as a piercing beam of searing sunlight bore into the wall of creatures, melting several into puddles of goop and burning away the corruption from several soldiers’ bodies.  
Sportacus then pulled Loftskip to the right as he swung and sliced at the monstrosities, chopping his own path through the endless horde, his attention set on the two men on horses in the distance.

Up in the air, Pixel set his sight on the battle below.  
“Time to go make a dent in these nasties.” He said to himself as he turned his glider downwards.  
He swooped and soared as he curved above the monsters, him releasing another magical grenade that burst into light as it hit the ground, sending several creatures skywards and startling the Meanswell and Dragonshelm soldiers.

Kilgrim and Lord Meanswell, who had just been cantering to return to the battle, hesitated at the sight of the blast.  
“What in blazes was that?!” cried Kilgrim.  
Lord Meanswell watched the sight, seeing his own men and Kilgrim’s men unharmed, but the Darkness creatures it hit obliterated off the face of the earth.  
“I don’t know, but I’m not one to question a gift. If it’s actually putting a dent in those creatures, I’m all for it!” Lord Meanswell responded.  
“Lord Meanswell!”  
The two men turned as Sportacus charged over towards them, with him pulling back on the reins right before them.  
“Sportacus! You’re back!” Lord Meanswell said excitedly.  
“About time you joined us, lad! I was worried you’d miss out on the party.” Kilgrim chuckled.  
Sportacus gave his warrior friend a small smile before he looked back out at the battle.  
“What do you need me to do? I can definitely join the fight with all the armor.” Sportacus offered with a firm gaze.  
“As much as that’d be helpful lad, well – “Kilgrim started.  
“Sportacus, the hordes of Darkness are endless!” interrupted Lord Meanswell exasperatedly. “Even if you did join, I don’t know if you’d make much more of a dent.”  
Kilgrim nodded.  
“Aye lad, the lord is right. Your mission is to destroy the God of All-Consuming Darkness, and that’s what you need to do now.” He said.  
“But what about all of you??” asked Sportacus anxiously. “I won’t let you all fight by yourselves, and I have the armor that can end this immediately!”  
“Not if the hordes are as endless as they seem.” Lord Meanswell pointed out. “It’s possible if you defeat the God of Darkness, his goons will vanish with him. We’ll provide a distraction while you head towards the south. Follow wherever those monsters are coming from and end the god quickly!”  
“I – “Sportacus protested, his gaze falling upon the rapidly dwindling number of Meanswell soldiers.  
“We don’t have time, Sportacus! You must go!” Lord Meanswell said.  
“We’ll be fine, lad. Don’t worry about us. Remember, you have a job to do!” Kilgrim encouraged.  
Sportacus looked nervously at his two friends, his ears drooping slightly. He felt his worries bubble away in his mind, his body frozen as he looked back at the battle.

Eventually, he relented, and nodded.

“Alright, I trust everything will be okay.” He said.  
“We’ll provide you with enough of a distraction to get past the majority of the monsters. After that, you know the rest.” Said Kilgrim with a smirk.  
“Okay.”  
“And Sportacus?”  
“Yes?”  
Kilgrim nodded. Lord Meanswell smiled at the hero.  
“Good luck.” They said in unison.  
Sportacus gave them a weak smile back.  
“Thank you. And I promise, I won’t let you all down!” He said as he snapped Loftskip’s reins.  
“My brothers and sisters! Form the defensive line!” bellowed Kilgrim.  
“Everyone! Protect Sportacus!” cried Lord Meanswell.  
A horn roared atop the walls, catching Valda’s attention.  
“Train your sights upon the eastern battlefield! Be ready to take out any of those creatures that _dare_ try to lay a hand on Sportacus!” She growled as she marched forward, aiming her own bow towards the eastern battlefield.  
The archers nodded and shifted their gazes. They watched and, as the first creatures and corrupted soldiers finally caught sight of the elven hero, they unleashed their volley of arrows.

The hail of arrows followed Sportacus like a crashing wave, taking out any unfortunate creature that attempted to charge and trip his steed. Meanswell and Dragonshelm soldiers clashed with the walls of Darkness monsters, swords and axes swinging to keep away the creatures from Sportacus as long as possible.  
The few that did pass through, however, met their end at the tip of Sportacus’s blade. He swung and cleaved at the Darkness creatures and corrupted soldiers, him kicking at one that clung to Loftskip’s side.  
One such corrupted soldier managed to leap from behind Loftskip and grab at Sportacus’s shoulders, threatening to rip him off of Loftskip’s back.  
Bent backwards, Sportacus grunted as he struggled with the seething, hissing soldier, whose fingers dug wildly at his scalp and towards his eyes. The soldier’s nails dug into his cheeks, earning it a yelp from Sportacus as he struggled to throw him off.  
“ _Sunlight!_ ” growled Robbie as the soldier was beaned in the face by a beam of pure sunlight, sending it tumbling off Loftskip’s hind.  
Sportacus sat himself back upright, his face now sporting a few crescent cuts from his assailant.  
“Thanks Robbie.” Said Sportacus thankfully.  
“You’re welcome. On your left.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus, startled, swung Robbie haphazardly to his left, clocking another monster in the face.  
“How close are we getting?” panted Sportacus as he clung close to Loftskip.  
“Getting close. The hill is up ahead and – “Robbie started.

He stopped, and Sportacus looked up as he did. His face went white.

The monsters and corrupted soldiers at the back of the approaching line had apparently caught wind of his arrival, since now the hordes were no longer directed towards Meanswell castle. No, they were directed straight at _him_ , with at least several dozen charging him all at once.  
Sportacus prepared Robbie and steeled his nerves. He looked back behind him, confirming that the back-up was far behind him and distracted by the curtailed armies of Darkness creations.  
He looked ahead of him again, then looked down at Robbie.  
Even though Robbie lacked a face or any expressive features in general, somehow, Sportacus knew that he was thinking the same thing as him. And as if Robbie could hear Sportacus’s thoughts, he gave a single nod in assent.  
Sportacus inhaled sharply and closed his eyes as Loftskip barreled towards the hordes of Darkness.  
The creatures and monstrosities howled in delight as Sportacus blindly charged towards them, their maws open wide and their claws at the ready.  
Pixel, up above, saw the scene and immediately dove down.  
“One delivery for you monsters, coming up!” He said through gritted teeth as he drove the glider downwards, then straight up.  
As he pulled up, he dropped another magical grenade, the explosion echoing through the battlefield and destroying several dozen Darkness monsters.  
The surviving monsters hesitated and watched the newly formed plume of blueish-black smoke that furled from the dented earth, their colleagues nowhere in sight and Sportacus unseen either.

They waited.

Then, they saw, emerging through the smoke, a vision of golden light.

Sportacus, brimming with the power of the Goddess, charged forward atop Loftskip, the steed’s hooves and mane glowing with the same power as they blitzed onwards straight at the hordes.  
The creatures hissed and yowled, attempting to back away to no avail.  
Silently, Sportacus lifted Robbie and swung widely, cleaving dozens of Darkness creatures in twain and eliminating the Darkness from several soldiers, their forms collapsing to the ground.  
Eyes blazing like stars, Sportacus’s gaze snapped to the largest mass of monsters charging at his front. He simply pointed Robbie towards them, his point directed.  
From Robbie’s blade a beam of blinding light erupted forth and incinerated the creations into nothing but ash and dust.  
Sportacus cracked Loftskip’s reins, the golden light lacing and swirling from his gauntlets and through Loftskip’s body, swirling around her hooves. Her mane whipped and twirled with golden light as she neighed loudly, her hooves digging through the dirt as she sped forward like a bolt, with Sportacus whacking and slicing at any creature that dared to strike at him.  
One after another, the creatures fell and the corrupted bodies were freed as Sportacus rode onwards, brushing through the massive hordes like a burst dam through a valley. A near visible bubble of golden light emanated around Loftskip and parted the army as they sprinted to the South.

Above the earth, Pixel watched in awe.  
“Oh wow…” He gasped, a golden twirl spiraling past the wing of his glider.  
His attention snapped away as he heard a series of shrieks coming behind him.  
He glanced back towards Meanswell, his pupils shrinking.  
He gritted his teeth and, forcing himself to not stare any longer at the Goddess’s power, he turned his glider back towards the castle.

One last wall of minions fell to dust and ash as Sportacus burst through the final mass of Darkness creations, with Loftskip cantering out into the mostly empty fields. The majority of the armies of Darkness laid behind them, and only a few spare creatures populated the empty grasslands before them.  
Sportacus closed his eyes and drew out an extended sigh, the golden light once again leaving him with a spinning and dizzy head. It took all of his power not to collapse off of Loftskip’s back and he could feel the mare also stumble for a moment.  
He forced himself to sit upright as he breathed heavily, his gaze darting to Robbie.  
Robbie, too, was panting.  
“Wow, we made it…” He gasped. “Holy _crap_ that was awesome.”  
Sportacus gave a quick laugh.  
“Y-Yeah, wow, that was a _lot_ of them, wasn’t it?” He said as he looked behind them.  
His smile evaporated; it was just as he feared.  
With the Meanswell and Dragonshelm soldiers distracted with ensuring his safe passage, the walls of the kingdom were left mostly unguarded. While many of the monsters had indeed been distracted by Sportacus’s mad dash to the south, a notable enough of them had kept to their objective and continued to push the line.  
And it seemingly worked; even from his distance, Sportacus could see a few specks of black that were Darkness creatures crawling and digging their ways up the wall.  
Sportacus’s hands gripped at the reins and, unconsciously, pulled back slightly.  
“Sportacus…” Robbie said warningly.  
“I-I can’t…let’s go back, Robbie. They’ll need us.” Sportacus said.  
“You heard what Kilgrim and Lord Meanswell said. They need you to get to the south and defeat the God of All-Consuming Darkness. Once you do that, all those armies will vanish.”  
“But what if I don’t make it in time?”  
“Weren’t you the one just saying how you can’t think of things like that?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus looked down guiltily.  
“I, yeah, but – “  
“No buts, Sportacus. You can’t think about that, not now. Not when we’re so close.” Robbie urged, his voice stern but sympathetic.  
Sportacus looked uneasy. His gaze still flitted behind him occasionally and so much of him wanted to turn back.  
A figure flashed in his vision, someone staring at him with a disapproving look. For a moment, he seemed familiar. He could see flames erupting from the castle.

He blinked and shook his head, and both the figure and the flames vanished.

However, he eventually nodded.

“You’re right. We have to keep going.” Sportacus said as he snapped Loftskip’s reins.  
The mare snorted and sped back up into a canter, her breathing heavy.  
“Robbie?” said Sportacus.  
“Hmm?”  
He smiled at his friend.  
“Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“Keeping me, you know, here.”  
“Well hey, _someone_ has to do it right?”  
Sportacus rolled his eyes.  
“A simple ‘you’re welcome’ will suffice.” He said.  
“And you really expect that out of me?”  
“I guess that’s too much. You’re right.” Sportacus said with a smirk.  
“Ouch. Jerk.” Robbie said.  
“You’re welcome.” Sportacus chuckled.

A moment of levity passing, Sportacus looked back up to the south, the reality of the situation hitting him.

He was heading home.

Home. After all of this.

Sportacus sighed, his gaze growing heavy.

Between the anticipation of reaching his home and the nervousness of an endangered Meanswell, Sportacus wondered if he _could_ keep himself in the moment, even though he knew he didn’t have a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this tomorrow instead of now, but I admit I got a little impatient lol. So you all get the chapter today instead. 
> 
> I think I've said it before, but we're really on the home-stretch now! Only hope Sportacus's return home is not too bad...and not tragic at all nope it won't be bad at all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	22. The Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that this chapter can get a little intense. No gore or anything, but just pretty emotional stuff so be wary! And if you need anything tagged, please let me know!

Loftskip ran onwards, through the fields of grass so green, the sky growing grayish blue dotted with similarly gray clouds. The plumes of smoke pooling from Meanswell had thinned out some time ago and not even the wisps were visible anymore as they went.

Aside from the occasional creature and cluster of corrupted soldiers, things had been startlingly quiet.

Which wasn’t great for Sportacus. He would’ve preferred perhaps a few monster fights if it meant avoiding thinking about home.  
He looked towards the horizon. The area had yet to become familiar, but he knew it’d be inevitable. He’d reach the outer borders of his old patrolling grounds and the memories, and feelings, would rush forward.  
He sighed and stared out towards the distance.  
For a moment, he thought he saw someone standing atop a hill.  
Someone in a mustard yellow tunic.  
He shook his head and the vision was gone.  
Still, he saw his sullen or…perhaps grave look before he banished the sight.  
…would his brother be waiting for him?  
Or…  
Sportacus swallowed the lump in his throat.

“So, heading on to your home. Have to admit, I’ve never seen Alfenheim in person before. Is it lovely?” asked Robbie, breaking the silence.  
Sportacus blinked, his thoughts broken. He thought for a moment before he nodded slowly.  
“Oh yeah…it’s beautiful. The sunsets are the loveliest in the summer.” He said distractedly.  
Pause.  
“It’s, um, warmer down there right? Southern part of the country and all, you get warmer summers?”  
Sportacus slowly nodded.  
“Uh, yeah usually. Cold winters though, they can get bitter.” He said.  
“Don’t know how that works but alright. I won’t question it.” Robbie said.  
“Hmm.” Sportacus said absently.

Pause.

“Sportacus…you’re doing okay, right? I don’t know how you’re feeling, but with going back to your home and all, I figure…well, how are you?” Robbie finally asked.  
Sportacus knew he’d ask, yet he still felt deflated. His ears drooped.  
“I’m…fine.” He answered.  
“That’s a lie. Come on Sportacus, I thought we were being honest with each other now. We’ve been friends long enough, right?”  
“A little over a week I’d say.”  
“Long enough in my books. Now, come on, spill the beans. Lots of emotionally turbulent stuff going on. Meanswell is under attack and we’re about to reach Alfenheim. And from what you told me…” Robbie continued until he stopped.  
He could see Sportacus’s eyes water.  
“…what I mean is, I don’t believe that you’re fine.” Robbie finished quietly with an apologetic tone.  
Sportacus hesitated as he blinked the tears from his eyes. He sighed and gripped the reins tightly.  
“I’m…not fine, but I’m trying not to think about it. There’s so much of me that’s worrying about home, about my people, about…about my brother. But I know I can’t worry, it won’t do me any good. Yet…I still am worried.”  
A shiver ran through him.  
“What if I…I _can’t save them_?” He asked quietly.  
Robbie rose up and leaned himself against Sportacus’s thigh.  
“You will, I know you will.” He said.  
“H-How?”  
“Well,” Robbie said thoughtfully. “because you have a freaking _deity_ on your side, that’s why! Not many warriors have something like that. I think you’re fine.”  
“True, I guess.”  
“And,” Robbie sighed roughly. “you know, you got…uh, you got me. I’m here, doing things. You’re not alone, right?”  
Sportacus smiled lightly, a pale pink covering his cheeks.  
“Right…you’re right.” He said.  
“Of course I’m right. Now let’s keep our eyes on the road. Last thing we want is to run into more monsters without being ready.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“Right. Eyes on the road.” He said.

The two rode onwards.

\--

Lord Meanswell threw off another of the corrupted soldiers as his gaze shot backwards, his pupils shrinking.

Perhaps their strategy had secured Sportacus’s safe journey, but he hadn’t accounted for the extreme lack of defense it created around the castle walls.

Monsters and corrupted soldiers crowded and towered atop each other, creating a living staircase of bodies and ooze that crawled ever upward, their desperate hands grabbing and clutching at anything in arm’s reach.

Atop the tower, Valda desperately called out repeated volleys of arrows from her archers, each one feverishly firing over and over again at the endless hordes of enemies. With each one that fell, it seemed at least five replaced it, and the archers’ arrow supplies were rapidly growing thin.  
Valda noticed this as she chewed on her bottom lip. She watched as the first pair of ooze-covered hands crossed the top of the wall.  
She gritted her teeth and pulled her sword.  
“The Goddess’s domain calls me!” She screamed as she charged forward and over the wall, her sword at the ready. She dove down into the hordes of enemies, hacking and slashing her way through enemy after enemy, as easily as a hot knife through butter. One of the many towers of crawling creatures fell away like a tree split by lightning, and Valda emerged a few minutes later, stained by the burning ooze yet still grinning maniacally.

At the same time, however, Lord Meanswell’s attention was caught by the death cries of his men. He gasped in horror as he watched a cluster of soldiers, six at least, be overtaken and consumed by the Darkness’s monstrosities, their cries finally muffled by the searing hot ooze.  
Kilgrim was thrown back beside him, the hulking warrior thrown to the ground as he pushed back against an onslaught of monsters. Lord Meanswell jumped into gear, taking his sword and slashing at two of the outer monsters as Kilgrim struggled.  
Once the two were free, they panted and stared at each other.  
“I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.” Lord Meanswell gasped as he looked grimly at his men, counting the increasingly dwindling numbers.  
“Aye. My warriors are strong, but the number issue is becoming a problem.” Kilgrim stated uneasily as he watched two of his friends charge at at least two dozen corrupted soldiers, knowing the odds were far against them.  
Pixel darted over the monsters and dropped another magical grenade atop them, taking out another dozen in a brilliant blaze. Despite his best attempts, however, there were simply too many.  
The Meanswell and Dragonshelm soldiers were continually pushed back, the monsters spilling through the ranks and further up the walls of the castle. Valda fought valiantly, but the numbers were simply too many. Even with her fierce fighting she could barely dent at the offensive taking over the outer perimeters.

Lord Meanswell looked out with misty eyes as the first group of monsters finally spilled over the walls.  
“We need more men. We _desperately_ need them.” Kilgrim muttered as he swung at another monster.  
“We need them _now_.” Lord Meanswell added mournfully.

It was as if the Goddess herself answered their prayers for, at that moment, the two heard a battle horn.

The two looked towards the west and, in awe, they stared at the brilliant sight of golden yellow that filled the grayish-green horizon.  
Over the hills and fields came an onslaught of soldiers, dressed in darkly colored armor punctuated with golden banners and flags, their pikes at the ready as they charged atop handsome, white steeds. The soldier blew the horn once more as they sprinted from the side, colliding swiftly with the unsuspecting Darkness monsters, creating a wave of destroyed creations and defeated, corrupted soldiers in the first line of horsemen’s wake.  
The next wave of soldiers flanked from the sides, quickly taking out the rapidly shrinking groups of monstrosities with their weapons and, even, a few well-placed spells. Archers shot flaming arrows through the sky and nailed several corrupted soldiers and monsters, setting them aflame and setting them tumbling to the ground. Catapults and trebuchets launched payload after payload towards the oncoming hordes, greatly reducing their numbers with each rock thrown.

Kilgrim and Lord Meanswell watched this all in shock, missing the sounds of hooves casually approaching them.

“Good afternoon, Lord Meanswell. Good afternoon, Mr. Warrior.” Said Prince Stingy formally and calmly as he turned his horse to look towards the battlefield.  
Lord Meanswell’s attention snapped to the prince.  
“Prince Stingy? What…I mean I’m _glad_ to see the Spoilero armies here but…where’s your mother?” He asked.  
“She…won’t be joining us.” Prince Stingy said quietly and sadly. “I’ll be leading our armies in her place. Now then, are we late?”  
“Just a little lad! We were about to get our hinds handed to us when you showed up with your fancy-pants brigade!” Kilgrim sputtered.  
“I believe my friend means to say is you came just in time.” Lord Meanswell added quickly.  
“Perfect.” Prince Stingy said as he clapped his hands together. “We’ll have this cleaned up in no time.”  
“Wait…what? Cleaned up?”   
Prince Stingy whistled and pointed towards the towers of monsters.  
A line of the Spoilero soldiers diverted from formation and, quickly, made their ways to each sides of the Meanswell outer walls. With their weapons pointed, they swiftly plowed through the towers, felling three of the mounds of monsters in a spectacular display of splattered ooze and Darkness that rained down upon the ground, melting grass and rock.  
Prince Stingy dusted off his shirt proudly.  
“So, what do you say? Cleaned up enough?” He asked simply.  
“Well, oh my…I’d say so.” Lord Meanswell said humbly.  
Kilgrim looked towards the horizon.  
“Ay, how about those ones?” He asked.

Prince Stingy looked to his right and, upon seeing, his face paled.

Another horde of what looked like _hundreds_ of monsters came charging over the horizon.

“Ah.” He said as casually as he could. “I suppose afternoon tea is out of the question then?”

\--

Loftskip, despite her weariness, charged ahead at a steady pace, her chest heaving and her breathing labored yet she remained spirited.

Sportacus kept looking around, watching as the surroundings grew increasingly more familiar. He and Robbie had yet to speak again after their little pep talk earlier, yet Sportacus felt better than he’d expected he would.

Yes, he was still disconcerted by the occasional vision of his brother, looking at him gravely, but he tried to think hopefully.

They would make it, and his home would be safe.

…It would.

…It _had_ to be.

Loftskip crossed over a hill and Robbie lifted himself slightly out of his sheath.  
He hesitated.  
“Oh…Uh, I think we’re here.” He said.  
Sportacus looked over again. His pupils shrunk.  
  
Yes, this was home.  
It was home as he never wanted to remember it as.

The cracks in the ground, now sizeable chasms, remained where he remembered them. Steam pooled from these breaks, nearly obscuring the mountains in the distance and the towering castle of Alfenheim.  
Though, unusually, Sportacus almost wished the steam _did_ obscure his old home, because what it looked like now was heartbreaking.  
The kingdom, once known for its pristine and haunting beauty, was only a broken and cracked shell of its former self. Whitewashed walls of pearly sheen were now stained by veins and branches of pulsating, hissing Darkness, spilling and vomiting more of the noxious essence over the untarnished surfaces. The outer walls were broken into pieces, exposing the devastated outer districts that Sportacus could see destroyed even from his distance. Pools and waterfalls of Darkness ooze ran through several streets.  
That was nothing to be said of the once magnificent spire of a castle, now nothing more than a pulsing pillar of pure Darkness with a giant, tumor-like growth jutting from its side, which occasionally spilled more of its essence into the streets below.  
Sportacus’s heart fell and his ears drooped. He was home, but not in the way he wanted to be.  
His eyes fell to the northern wall as he heard rumbling and creaking.  
He watched as the distance was filled with black, another cluster of monsters rushing from the remains of Alfeneheim and out into the ruined fields, no doubt charging towards the battle at Meanswell.  
Sportacus braced himself and coaxed Loftskip forward carefully, maneuvering her around chasms and over more shallow breaks in the earth.

Onwards they rode, past more chasms and cracks with careful maneuvering and turning, Loftskip simply thankful for the slower, more casual trot-speed set over the endless cantering and galloping earlier.  
Sportacus kept looking about his home as they approached the outer walls. He stared at the cracked and broken walls, once so safe and assuring. The gate, once a mighty threshold which when closed took away any access to the kingdom, was broken into splinters on the ground, the entrance wide open and stained with Darkness. He rode past, his gaze mournfully glancing at the broken gate.  
They rode into the streets, with Sportacus continuing to take in the sight of his destroyed homes. Houses were destroyed with roofs caved in and walls broken away, the insides wrecked and sacked. Once pristine lawns of long grass and jasmine were torn away and burned by Darkness which pooled and gurgled at Sportacus’s presence.  
He drew Robbie in preparation, but even his grip betrayed his anxiousness and mourning.  
Distantly, he could hear things moving about the city, yet he saw nothing living or otherwise. The city was empty, only the pools of Darkness populating it.  
“Wow. I…I really could see how beautiful this place was.” Robbie finally said, hoping to break the silence.  
Of course, he quickly realized the uselessness of it once he saw his friend’s face, the strain in his expression.  
“…I’m sorry. This…This is all awful.” He added.  
Sportacus closed his eyes and sighed as he snapped Loftskip’s reins and continued to ride through the city.  
Down alleys and streets they rode. They rode past buildings of varying intricacy and style, from shacks to near-mansions, all destroyed and ruined.

They had entered a specific part of town, one populated by less nice buildings made of murky gray stone and mossy roofs, when Sportacus abruptly pulled to a stop.  
“What? Do you see something?” Robbie asked as he turned himself around.  
Sportacus’s face had paled.  
Robbie looked where Sportacus’s eyes were looking, and he stopped.  
It was a house, pretty much like all the other houses they’d seen. Its gray stone had been ripped apart, the front wall shattered into pieces. The lawn was torn and dug to mud mixed with Darkness that swirled like oil. A massive hole was bored through the roof, with bits of dirt and burned moss spilling into the destroyed living room.  
Robbie, at first, puzzled at why they stopped at _this_ specific house. Then it hit him.  
“Oh…” He said near silently as he turned to look at his friend.  
Surprisingly, Sportacus didn’t seem broken from the sight. He wasn’t even crying.  
Instead, he looked weary. He looked mournful, but not excessively so.  
It was as if he’d accepted this possibility, but not willingly. Almost reluctantly.  
“I’m sorry, Sportacus.” Said Robbie. The gesture was unnecessary, and Robbie knew it’d do little to help, but he still felt compelled to say _something_.

Sportacus didn’t answer, however, and simply nudged Loftskip forward, his gaze turning away from his home.

He didn’t look back once as they turned the corner, with Robbie watching the ruined house disappear from view.

\--

Ziggy tossed his ball against the wall for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few minutes, the ball bouncing off and back into his waiting hand.

Stephanie, meanwhile, twisted her tiara repeatedly in her hands, her eyes occasionally darting to the door as she anxiously tapped her foot. She sighed worriedly.

As much as it made sense, Stephanie and Ziggy were both left discontented with their guardians’ decision. True, they were in wartimes and technically the heirs to both kingdoms needed to be protected but locking them away in the safe room was simply…well _awful_.  
Stephanie hated not knowing what was going on, only gaining minute information from the dulled-out echoes of screams and cries, which told her nothing.  
“ _My_ parents _wouldn’t hide like this. They’d fight, that’s what they_ did. _So, they expect me to hide instead?_ ” thought Stephanie annoyedly as she stood to her feet.  
Ziggy looked over at his friend curiously.  
“Where are you going, Stephanie? Bathroom?” He asked.  
“I’m tired of hiding, Ziggy.” She replied as she fumbled beneath a bed. “I want to go out and help defend the kingdom.”  
“But your uncle and my dad said we needed to hide! Something about a line-age?” Ziggy said.  
“But what kind of leaders would we become if, when the kingdom needed us most, we did nothing but hide?” Stephanie countered as she pulled out a small sword and shield.  
“Gee, I never thought of it like that.” Ziggy noted thoughtfully.  
“Then you’ll come with me?” asked Stephanie as she stood, now armed.  
“Of course!” Ziggy said as he jumped to his feet. “Friends don’t abandon friends!”  
Stephanie smiled.  
“Take this then.” She said as she tossed her friend a spear.  
Ziggy caught it, then paused.  
“Uh, I just thought of something.”  
“Hmm?”  
“How are we going to get _out_? They locked the only door.” He said, pointing to the heavy, steel door.

Stephanie paused and thought a moment, tapping her chin. She glanced around a room until she snapped her fingers, spotting something at a far wall. She strode over and felt at the brickwork, tapping each brick with her palm.  
Ziggy watched her confusedly.  
“Uh, Stephanie?”  
“Just a moment.” She replied as she finally found her spot.  
She pressed one of the bricks, which sank into the wall quite easily.  
A small passageway, just large enough for the kids, slid open at the floor level, revealing a dark and lengthy tunnel.  
She grinned at her stunned friend.  
“The castle is _full_ of these secret passages! Luckily for us, I have them all memorized.” She said as she crawled inside, her sword in its sheath.  
Ziggy gave one, nervous glance at the door before he followed after her.  
Through hallways plagued by darkness the two ran, with Stephanie leading mostly blindly, her hands tapping and patting the walls as they scurried and jogged. She scuffed the soles of her shoes against the rough, stone floor, feeling carefully with her shoe tips, almost expectantly.  
She threw a hand back as her shoe’s tip finally collided with something solid, with Ziggy nearly crashing into her.  
“Stairs.” She said quietly as she felt for the railing.  
“Stairs? Where are we going?” asked Ziggy.  
“Where else? Up.”

The two went up the stairs at a far slower rate, being careful not to trip or fall on their ascent, the sounds of battle growing louder as they climbed. Ziggy felt distinctly uneasy the higher they climbed, the question of where they were going growing more pressing in his mind. He prepared his spear in expectation of the worst as Stephanie stopped, the stairs abruptly ending.  
She whacked at something wooden above her until it flipped open, flooding the pitch black passageway with light. The two carefully stepped up and out onto a flat area of stone floor, surrounded by battlements.  
Ziggy gasped.  
“Are we…this is one of the towers?” He asked.  
Stephanie nodded as she carefully approached the edge and peered out.  
She jumped back in shock.  
“Woah.” She said in a hushed voice.  
Ziggy quickly ran over to join his friend and looked over.  
“Woah.” He echoed.  
They looked out upon the ruined fields of Meanswell, dotted with fires and bodies as the Darkness continued to press onwards, the defenses of Meanswell barely bolstered by the Dragonshelm warriors and Spoilero forces. They could see the blots of black that were the Darkness’s monsters scaling the wall, a few spilling over the top and accosting the archers.  
“Stephanie, I think we need to get back to the safe room.” Ziggy said in horror, his face going white. “T-They’re in the city walls.”  
“We can’t turn back now!” Stephanie protested. “The whole reason we left the safe room was to help defend home!”  
“But those guys are really big! They’re giving the warriors and soldiers a fight, we don’t stand a chance!” Ziggy said worriedly.  
“We don’t know unless we try!”  
“Yeah, but – “

Their argument was interrupted by a sharp shriek that stole both their attentions away.

The two kids watched in horror as the inky, oozy arm slapped against the top of the battlement, its ugly and slimy head following suit. The monster opened its maw and croaked, the rest of it spilling over quickly.  
The kids shrieked and pulled their weapons. However, their grips were loose, and their bodies quaked. Ziggy whimpered fearfully as the monster pulled itself across the ground, Darkness dripping from its jaw.  
Princess Stephanie lifted her shield and held her sword at the ready. Bracing herself, she shrieked as she slashed at the monster, cutting away a piece of its skull, which splattered against the walls.  
Stephanie cringed and gagged at the sight.  
“S-Stephanie!” cried Ziggy as he struck with his spear at something behind them.  
Stephanie twirled around and gasped as two more monsters slid over the battlements and onto the floor, their heads twisting and mouths creaking with pitiful wails and moans.  
Ziggy shouted and embedded his spear into one monster’s head, sending it slipping to the ground. He attempted to yank the weapon free but, as soon as his shoe met the monster’s arm, he yelped and fell back.  
“It burns! It burns!” He wailed as he wrestled with his shoe.  
Stephanie, taking one last moment to whack the first monster, turned on her heel and sliced at the third monster, cleaving its head. She pointed her sword at the second monster as she attended to her friend, helping him remove his shoe.  
She cringed at the sight; her friend’s foot was a bright, angry red.  
“We need to get you inside.” She said as she lifted Ziggy up and onto her shoulder.  
As she turned towards the trap door, however, she froze as three more monsters crawled over the battlements. The monsters screeched and groaned, their hands reaching greedily towards them.  
Stephanie gasped fearfully as she backed up. She yelped as she heard more groaning behind her, the three fallen monsters still crawling towards her.  
Her gaze snapped in all directions one by one, each direction she saw herself surrounded.  
They were trapped.  
“Oh Ziggy, I’m so sorry…” She said mournfully as she prepared her sword for their last stand.

The two were suddenly blinded as a puff of smoke obscured their vision.

Princess Stephanie and Ziggy coughed harshly as they waved at the smoke, their eyes slightly watering. Princess Stephanie’s eyes cleared first, and she goggled at the sight.  
It was another girl, not much older than she was. She was dressed in garb she’d never seen before, and her hair was tied in three pigtails.  
Trixie stood up tall and pulled a handful of small knives from her sleeves.  
“I dare you to strike first.” She taunted the monsters.  
The monsters obliged and charged.  
In an instant, Trixie grinned and spun on the ball of her foot, her hands working feverishly as she launched her knives at the hearts of each of the monsters, with each blade embedding itself in the monsters’ chests. The monsters recoiled in confusion, their hands grabbing at the deeply sunk knives.  
Trixie’s spin came to a stop and she looked rather pleased with the results.  
She looked back at Stephanie, who stared in awe.  
“Princess.” She said politely as she pulled a sword from her side.  
With a rally cry, Trixie leapt into action, cleaving at monster after monster, each falling into pulpy, hissing messes on the ground that forced Stephanie and Ziggy to weave and dodge as they each fell.  
“We’re running out of room!” cried Stephanie as they were backed into a corner.  
“Princess!” cried a voice.  
Stephanie and Ziggy looked behind them, with both gawking at the sight of what looked like a flying wooden…thing.

Pixel gestured towards a rope dangling over the dragon glider’s side.  
“Grab on! Quick!” He yelled.  
As the rope passed, Stephanie grabbed and was yanked away from the tower with Ziggy at her side. She watched as Trixie finished off the last of the crawling monsters and disappeared in another puff of smoke.  
She and Ziggy climbed aboard the dragon glider, with Ziggy stunned at the marvelous machine.  
“This…is WONDERFUL!” He cried in delight. “How are we flying? What _is_ this thing??”  
“It’s my dragon glider!” Pixel said proudly. “And I’d explain more, but you both better hold on! I’m going for a nosedive!”  
Eyes widening, Stephanie and Ziggy dove for any solid structure they could see.  
Pixel drove down on the yaw, the glider slipping down towards the ground. At the last possible moment, he pulled back up and yanked on another rope, launching another magical grenade that scattered a few dozen monsters.  
“How many grenades do I have left?” Pixel asked.  
Ziggy peered over at the reserves, counting carefully.  
“Uh…five? I think?” He said.  
Pixel cursed under his breath.  
“Is that bad?” asked Stephanie.  
“Yeah, I’m running out of ammo.” Said Pixel as he shook his head. “I don’t know how much more I’ll be able to help.”  
“Maybe someone will show up?” suggested Ziggy.  
Pixel smirked.  
“Maybe. We already had an army show up. What else could happen?” He said.

An earth-shattering roar answered their thoughts.

The three kids looked over the front of the glider, their eyes goggling.  
“W-W-What is _that_?!” asked Ziggy.  
“It’s…It’s _gigantic_!” gasped Pixel.  
“It’s an ancient beast!” Stephanie said in recognition. “They’re the old guardians of the past! It’s come to save us!”  
Anamcha stood on a ledge and shook his manes as he roared. Several assassins leapt off the beast’s back and vanished into battle, apparating throughout the field and taking out the monsters and corrupted soldiers. The great beast’s eyes darted to the nearest line of monsters and, with a dig at the ground, it leapt out and straight into the heat of battle, its claws and jaws ripping and pulverizing monsters into puddles.

The three kids watched for a moment in awe, with Pixel finally breaking the silence.  
“Huh, well, you know what?”  
The two kids looked at him.  
Pixel smiled confidently.  
“Something tells me that we’re better covered than we thought.” He said.

\--

Sportacus had remained quiet the entire time since they left his house behind, and it deeply unsettled Robbie.

He had expected something from his friend. _Anything_ , really.  
Yet, nothing.  
They had passed by street after street of nothing but ruins, all destroyed and desecrated by the presence of the Darkness, with houses left empty and crumbled. They saw pools upon pools of Darkness fill alleyways and broken fountains, spurting and gurgling with foul-smelling steam.   
Yet the whole time, Sportacus was stony-faced, if only paler than usual.  
It was unusual, to say the least.  
He turned himself to look at his friend, the sickness in his stomach growing.  
He swallowed thickly as he decided to speak.  
“I, uh, I know you’re probably taking everything in. Believe me, I can only imagine how…how you feel. But, uh, can you give me a hint about how you’re doing? I-I know I can’t judge how people _deal_ with devastation and grief, but…but you seem a little…little uh…” He started.  
Sportacus’s eyes flitted down wearily to his friend. If his face didn’t convey anything, the look in his eyes gave him everything he needed to know.  
He was breaking, ever slowly. But he wasn’t letting it show.  
Robbie drooped.  
“…never mind. Sorry.” He finally said quietly.  
Sportacus looked ahead once more, his brow knitting as he pulled back on Loftskip’s reins.  
“What? Do you see something?” asked Robbie.  
“Shh.” Sportacus hushed as he pulled Loftskip towards an alley.  
Loftskip carefully trotted into a nearby alley. Sportacus slipped off his steed and peeked around the wall.  
Robbie tilted himself to look around the corner as well, and his heart dropped.  
“ _Oh_.” He said.

They had found Sportacus’s old neighbors, the citizens of Alfenheim that had seemingly vanished.  
They were shambling through the streets with eerily inorganic strides, their bodies riddled with Darkness as they stumbled and croaked. One elven man gaped and shrieked as he lumbered ahead, the other elves following close behind.  
Robbie could hear a high-pitched squeak escape from Sportacus’s throat and, when he looked up, he could see his eyes watering.  
Sportacus stepped back from the alley’s corner and bowed his head. He closed his eyes and breathed sharply through his nose. He repeated, inhaling and exhaling, until the slight trembling Robbie could feel faded away.  
Finally composed, Sportacus looked mournfully at his friend. He sighed and, wordlessly, grabbed Loftskip’s reins. He led her out of the alley and back out into the streets.  
With the hordes gone, Sportacus prepared to exit back onto the main street. As he entered the street, however, he heard another noise, sending him ducking back into another alley.  
Loftskip grunted and snorted in unease. Sportacus gently patted her nose and hushed her quietly, his ear pinning to listen for anything.  
Robbie lifted himself up as well, listening carefully for the groans and croaks the monsters and corrupted bodies usually made.

What they heard instead, however, was talking. _Actual_ , coherent talking.

“So many have been collected already. I wonder if there’s anyone left.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened, his grip on Robbie loosening slightly.  
“Wait.” Sportacus said quietly as he peeked around the corner.  
He froze.  
An elf stood in the streets, untouched by Darkness, his robes fluttering in the wind. The slightly larger elf had his arms crossed and his back to Sportacus. However, despite this, Sportacus recognized him instantly.  
“Elder Maron?” He asked silently to no one in particular. “H-He’s okay?”  
A slight, hopeful smile crossed his face.  
“If he survived, then maybe there are others too. Maybe…Maybe…” He said to Robbie joyfully.  
“You! Over there!”  
Sportacus nearly jumped and yelped as Maron’s harsh voice cut through the air. He peeked around the corner quickly.  
Elder Maron was snapping his fingers at something he couldn’t yet see. The man seemed annoyed about something.  
“Stop idling about! Get yourself over here!” Elder Maron snapped.  
Sportacus’s brow furrowed as he watched, his confusion growing.  
Confusion was replaced with shock as an elven woman shambled into view, half-consumed by Darkness with her entire right side covered. Her tongue lolled out the corner of her mouth and her balance favored her right foot. She was dressed in robes like Elder Maron.  
“Elder Freya…” Sportacus said in horror, his voice hushed.  
Elder Maron shook his head at the corrupted elder, his fingers drumming against his arm.  
“Go search the northern sections of the city again. I want to ensure that every available person has been collected. Our master deserves to have the mightiest army after all.” He said.  
The former Elder Freya nodded slowly, a wispy gasp echoing between her teeth, as she stumbled off and out of view.  
Sportacus, at this point, was visibly shaking. His face had gone white and sweat beaded on his forehead.  
“H-He…He betrayed us…He betrayed _everyone_ …” Sportacus rambled softly, his heart beating faster.  
“Sportacus, breathe. Breathe, i-it’s going to be okay. There’s still hope, so - “Robbie said as calmingly as he could.

“And you! I need you over here too.”  
Sportacus’s heart nearly shut down as Maron’s shrill voice broke through the air once more. Part of him didn’t want to look around the corner, if only to avoid exposing himself to anymore of Maron’s obvious treachery and betrayal of everything he knew and loved.  
Yet, he still needed to see.  
So, he looked around the corner, once more.

And, in that moment, Sportacus’s world _shattered_.

It couldn’t be…It couldn’t be _him_.  
Sportacus wouldn’t…he couldn’t…  
He was still there, the very essence of his nightmares.  
It was real.

Standing before Maron, near totally consumed by Darkness with barely a piece of his mustard tunic visible under the writhing black Darkness, was Íþro.  
His brother, a shell of his former self, a shell of everything Sportacus looked up to…everything he _loved_ , stumbled and trembled under the weight of the corruption puppeting his body, leaving him a gross mockery of what he was once before. His eyes, once full of cheer and energy, were reduced to glassy marbles that stared unfocused at the space above Maron’s head. His mouth drooped open, a stream of Darkness spilling over his chin.  
Sportacus wanted to react. He wanted to do _anything_ , even collapse in horror and grief. But he was frozen, _petrified_ , trapped somewhere between grief and denial which cancelled out to a horrified, white-faced stare, his knuckles bleaching as he gripped the corner.  
Robbie could feel him tremble once more, a violent, seizing tremble.  
Elder Maron, meanwhile, regarded Íþro with a level of contempt.  
“I’ve heard mumblings that someone has trespassed into the city, on horseback. He could very well be _him_ , so I need you to hunt him down. Bring him here, alive. Our master cannot be interrupted as he’s healing.” He said.  
Íþro gurgled and hissed, his head nodding slowly.  
“Í-Íþro…” Sportacus finally eked out, his voice strained and near inaudible. His heart was thumping and threatening to collapse in on itself, the drumming building in his ears and drowning most noise out.  
Yet, he wasn’t deaf to Maron’s words.  
“Hmph, this will be interesting. Perhaps your training won’t be such a waste after all.”  
Sportacus’s pupils shrunk. His fingers dug deeper into the brickwork.  
Maron paused before speaking, his tone shifting from thoughtful to downright venomous.  
“Your brother is the chosen hero, don’t you know? I suppose it makes sense, you were always the _weaker_ half of the duo, so caught up babysitting your twin…perhaps if you weren’t babysitting so much you might’ve _survived_ our master’s awakening.”  
Robbie could hear Sportacus’s breathing shift, growing sharper, shorter, and more audible. His fingers curled into the brick even deeper.  
Sportacus could feel his skin start burning as tension coiled in his chest and stomach.  
“S-Sportacus?” asked Robbie quietly.  
He could see the strain in Sportacus’s face, how the man gritted his teeth.  
“Oh well, that’s how the world turns. At least you’re being put to much better use now, and I’m certain you agree with us too.” Maron said simply, almost jovially.

It was like a pop rang through Sportacus’s mind.

In an instant, he grabbed Robbie once more and had darted from his hiding place, his eyes fixed upon Maron’s head as soon as it came into view.  
The elder elf looked surprised but not shocked, his eyes wide and his body in a fleeing stance.  
“You _bastard_! YOU BASTARD!” Sportacus screamed.  
“Don’t stand there! Fight him!” Maron spat at Íþro as he ran off.  
Íþro’s gaze snapped towards his brother and he immediately threw himself in Sportacus’s way, tackling him to the ground. He hissed and sputtered, his Darkness-infected hand reaching and clawing for Sportacus’s face.  
Sportacus struggled with his brother, his grip on Robbie dropping as he elected to fight barehanded, his hands reaching to grip and throw his corrupted sibling.  
Íþro roared in his face, a half-human, half-something _else_ kind of roar, and hissed lowly.  
“Bróðir, stand down…it’ll be easier this way…” Íþro croaked, his voice hollow and uncanny.  
Sportacus shuddered as he reluctantly socked his brother in the face and threw him to the side. He clambered onto his feet and grabbed Robbie just in time for Íþro to charge at him again.  
Sportacus dodged his attack attempt and stared at him pleadingly.  
“Stop this, Íþro! Stop this right now! I know you’re still there, please! You have to remember!” Sportacus begged, his trembling vibrating through Robbie.  
Íþro, however, only let out an inhuman wail in return. He directed his hands at Sportacus’s neck as he charged forward, his teeth gnashing and eyes staring.  
“Stop it! _Stop it_!” Sportacus shouted, tears pouring down his face.   
Íþro charged still.  
Sportacus’s breathing hitched, and he forced his eyes shut as he lifted Robbie.  
“STOP IT!” He shrieked as he blindly swung.

He felt Robbie’s blade connect with something squishy and slimy, and he heard something fall hard to the ground next to him.

His eyes shot open, and his gaze fell to where he’d heard the sound, his body shaking violently and threatening to send him crumpling to the ground.  
He gasped, and his hand shot up to his mouth.  
Íþro laid there, a crumpled heap on the ground, a gigantic gash bored through the corrupted part of his body. He hissed and gurgled, a pool of Darkness spilling from his wound and onto the street, burning away cobblestone. He remained still.  
“No…oh goddess _no_ …what have I done…” Sportacus softly mumbled as he backed away from his brother’s body, his head shaking desperately.  
His eyes wouldn’t leave his brother.  
“Well, that was mildly disappointing.”  
Sportacus’s gaze snapped up, and he looked behind him.  
Elder Maron stood a few feet away, his arms crossed still.  
“I really expected more of a fight after all that training, but oh well. I suppose you can’t get everything you want out of life.” He sighed.  
“You _monster_.” Sportacus hissed, lifting Robbie up. “D-Don’t…I’ll…”  
“You’ll _what_?” Maron asked.  
A slight smirk had crossed the elder’s face, one that Robbie didn’t miss and sent alarm bells ringing in his head.  
“Sportacus, wait – “He started.  
Sportacus growled.  
“I’LL KILL YOU!” He screamed as he sprinted towards the elf.

Elder Maron’s eyes shot wide as he broke into his own sprint, running as far away from Sportacus as he could towards the castle spire.  
Sportacus charged forward, leaping over obstacles and dodging pools of Darkness as he pursued the man relentlessly.  
“You _murdered_ my brother! _MURDERED him!_ ” Sportacus yelled, his heart beating faster and faster.  
“Sportacus, wait! Don’t!” Robbie begged.  
“BASTARD!” Sportacus screamed.  
Elder Maron kept running, his breathing growing labored as he ran.  
He looked back at the hero.  
“You must not care much about your brother, give you haven’t _caught_ me yet.” He said mockingly.  
Sportacus roared as he stepped into high gear.  
Elder Maron looked back in front of him, a pleased smile crossing his face as he approached the castle.  
The castle, once a pristine beauty, was now surrounded by a seemingly impenetrable pool of Darkness even gripped and built like veins into the very base of the castle, covering any doors and staircases so that no one would be foolish enough to attempt to enter.  
Yet, Elder Maron was making a beeline right towards it, his pace even quickening.  
Sportacus thought he had him cornered, and the burning in his chest grew hotter as he lifted Robbie up, all the ready to slash his brother’s murderer into pieces.  
“Sportacus, stop! He’s tricking you!” Robbie begged again.  
Elder Maron looked back one last time and gave Sportacus a taunting smirk before he stepped onto the Darkness.

The Darkness, in turn, parted, revealing a clear path to the main doors of the castle. Elder Maron sprinted through as Sportacus hesitated, stunned. Maron paused the door for only a moment before he dipped inside, the Darkness flowing back over and covering the door once again.

“NO!” screamed Sportacus as he charged right into the Darkness, the ooze spitting and hissing at his presence.  
He charged towards where the door was and began, feverishly, to hack and slash at the thick goo, even as the Darkness burned and ate at his clothing and sizzled against his armor.  
The Darkness, in turn, seized and rose like waves on the ocean, slapping and clinging against his body increasingly with every surge of the essence.  
“Sportacus, stop! Maron baited you! We have to stop, we’re literally _wading_ in Darkness!” Robbie pleaded as Sportacus used him to slash and slice.  
His wielder, however, was seemingly deaf to his cries and pleas. He continued to hack even as the Darkness crawled and clung up his mid-back, crawling ever higher.  
Sportacus continued to cry and yell his frustrations and rage at the infinitely regenerating Darkness as his body grew heavier and heavier with the Darkness’s weight. By the time he even started to ease up, the Darkness had begun to cling to his chest and arm.  
He didn’t cease, however, and he continued to slash even as the Darkness grew ever taller and Robbie continued to protest.  
“Sportacus, listen to me! You have to calm down! I know you’re hurting, but what you’re doing isn’t helping anyone! If you keep this up, you’ll _die!_ You have to stop!” Robbie begged.  
The Darkness hissed and gurgled before spitting up a string of its essence. The essence quickly ensnared Sportacus’s hand, the one he was using to hold Robbie.

And, instantly, it pulled Sportacus’s arm back, sending Robbie flying away from his grip and into the pools of Darkness.

“SPORTACUS!” cried Robbie as he landed deep within a pool of the scorching essence, the goop making a horrible _splop_ sound as he landed.  
He attempted to lift himself upright, with him making it halfway before the tar-like Darkness threatened to snap him flat against the pool. He felt himself sinking quickly, a fourth of his blade already gone beneath the vast pond he’d fallen in, the ooze bubbling and spitting as he sank.  
He wrestled and twisted, trying to break himself free. He fired off a volley of spells to break away the sticky ooze but barely any left even a scratch. Half of him had now vanished into the goopy essence.  
He panted as he finally stopped, his attention returning to his wielder.  
He could only watch in horror, helplessly, as his friend was slowly grabbed and pulled about by the Darkness, more of his body also vanishing under the pools and waves of blackness while he continued to thrash and yell.  
Robbie’s heart sank as he began to vanish beneath the surface.  
His last cries remained unheard as he finally sank below, with Sportacus disappearing from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was something, wasn't it?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	23. The Monster

As he finally roused himself from sleep, the first thing that struck Robbie was a splitting headache.

Groaning, he flopped over, feeling an extended ache overtake his body. This would usually be disconcerting to an average person, but Robbie was used to waking up with aches and pains, especially in his back.  
He stared up at his ceiling, blinking blearily as the leafy covering became more distinct and focused.  
…Except…  
…wait, wasn’t his ceiling usually _gray_? And made of stone?  
Where was he?  
And why was that light so freaking _bright_?  
He raised his hand to shield the light so, at the least, he wasn’t being blinded as he thought.

…wait.

He froze and, slowly, uneasily, he lifted his arm and hand back into his view.  
He _lifted_ his arm and hand into view.  
He felt a shock run through his body as he turned his hand back and forth, on _his_ accord, and examined himself.  
Yes…this was _himself_.  
He shot up to sit upright, his back protesting as it always did with a tweak and a sharp pain.  
He groaned and gripped, _gripped_ his back, giving it a light massage.  
Looking down, he saw his old purple robes, just the same as they had been centuries ago.  
His hands left his back and raced to grip fistfuls of his fabric.  
Yes it was real; he could feel their familiar, stiff yet cozy feel under his fingers.  
Oh, _fingers_.  
He laughed as he looked at his hands again, with said hands rushing up to graze his face as he checked himself over.  
Legs? Yup.  
Chest? Yup.  
Devilishly handsome quaff and chin? Double yes.  
“I’m…I’m me again?” He asked in delight.

But how could this be?

His heart dropped as he paused.  
“Was…was it all a dream?” He wondered as he looked around.  
On one hand, it did feel like everything was a dream. After all, recounting the events of 500 years, it all seemed so outlandish as he thought it over, what with the adventures and loss of friends and his handsome companion.  
Yet, the strangeness and foreignness of his surroundings made him pause.  
The room had a distinctly nature-oriented theme mixed with silvers, gold, and marble. Marble pillars covered in silver “ivy” formed the corners of the room, with actual, organic ivy and tree branches forming the roof, explaining the distinctly woody aroma that punctuated the room. His bed was also made of some sort of pine, forming a tall posted bed with a canopy made of smooth cotton. An ornate table with gold detailing immediately opposed him across the room, the table covered in trinkets and medical supplies. To his right sat a comfy and regal arm chair made with a crimson fabric and cherry wood.  
And leaning against this chair, its gemstone a dull, gray color now, was the sword. Around the hilt hung the Blessed Seeing Glass, shimmering under the light.  
Seeing the sword nearly made Robbie jump, like one would seeing their own dead body. His hand raced to his chest and clenched, his heart drumming as he stared at the sword. A sweat broke out on his forehead.  
Yet, nothing. The sword did nothing but sit there, like any regular sword.  
Despite this, Robbie was reluctant to approach it, fearing that mere contact with the weapon would result in him being trapped once again, perhaps this time forever.  
Slipping off the bed, he stared warily at the sword as he approached it, much like a frazzled cat approaching an unfamiliar animal. Reaching out, his hands glowed as he read the energy of the sword, looking for a curse or enchantment that might tell him if the sword posed any threat to his newly regained body.

He read carefully, sifting through the ebbs and lines of magic for clues. He came up empty; the sword was completely free of any enchantment.

His magic aura falling, Robbie sighed in relief. He walked over to the sword and, cringing nonetheless, he picked it up.  
And indeed, nothing happened. The sword felt heavy in his hand, but he wasn’t instantaneously sucked back into the sword, nor was he vaporized, though he barely expected that latter option.  
He sat back down on the bed and contemplated the now empty weapon in his hands. He turned it over and over again in his hands, looking it over. Valda’s ribbon still hung, now nearly ripped into pieces, from the handle. He slipped the glass off the hilt and set it beside him.  
“So, it wasn’t all a dream.” He said quietly as he looked at himself in the blade’s reflection.  
He hadn’t aged a day.  
He laid the sword back in his lap as he looked around.  
“There’s one question answered, but two left. First, where the heck am I?”  
He stood up and, looking behind him, he spotted the door.  
He frowned, then looked back at the bed.  
It did look comfy.  
He shook his head and slapped his cheek.  
“Focus Robbie! There’s time for naps later. First have to figure out whose house I’m crashing.” He said to himself as he strode towards the door. “And if it’s mine, maybe I’ll figure out breakfast first.”  
He reached towards the doorknob, golden and gilded with fancy, lacy designs.

The knob, however, turned first on its own.

Robbie squeaked and jumped back, with him drawing the sword. Standing frozen, his eyes darted to the sword, and he immediately realized how stupid this all was.  
_He_ didn’t have weapons training; why in the world would he draw the _sword_ as his first resort?  
Nevertheless, he held it high.  
The door swung open, and he was greeted by a face wholly unfamiliar.  
The man was dressed much like he was, in robes with sleeves that reached to the tips of his fingers and down over his feet. However, his robes, a pale green color, were far more ornately decorated with golden thread. The collar, which ended with a hood on Robbie’s, instead rose up high and partially covered the man’s cheeks, with the hood omitted. A single pin, silver and shaped like a ragged crow, connected the sides of his robe.  
The man’s hair was a chestnut brown and _very_ curly, each strand forming a corkscrew curl, which was long enough to be tied into a messy ponytail. A scruffy patch covered his chin, and a pair of spectacles sat pinched upon the bridge of his nose.  
Robbie felt like he’d seen his style of robes before, but he couldn’t remember where.  
“Ah, I see you’re awake! Feeling better?” asked the man as he eyed Robbie’s sword.  
Robbie’s gaze snapped down to the sword which, despite feeling it was a little impolite, he kept raised.  
“Who are you, and where am I?” Robbie asked.  
“A bit of a rude question to the man who saved you.” The man answered, his eyebrow quirked.  
“Saved me?”  
“From drowning in the Darkness essence. That stuff is potent you know. I wasn’t sure how you’d be once you woke up, but you clearly seem in at least high spirits.” Said the man as he let himself in.  
  
Robbie followed the man with his sword as the man crossed over to the table and picked up a silver cup. Filling it with a brown liquid from a silver bottle, he offered the cup to Robbie.  
“Cup of elderberry juice? I hear it’s _fantastic_ for the constitution.” He said with a smile.  
Robbie only responded with a quiet head shake.  
“Suit yourself.” Said the man as he downed the juice, grimacing as he did. “Oh yes, that is nasty.”  
“Who are you?” asked Robbie again.  
The man poured himself another cupful before he walked over and sat himself at the end of the bed. As he sipped, he raised his hand and waggled a finger, his finger glowing a bright green color.  
“Sit yourself down and we’ll talk.” He said.  
Robbie gasped as he felt himself be yanked forward and up, him floating gently through the air. He was then carefully set down next to the man on the bed, the glow leaving him.  
“So…you’re a mage too?” asked Robbie as he collected himself.  
“Mm-hmm.” Said the man. “Thought my outfit would’ve given that away. Or is it too subtle?”  
Robbie glanced at the man’s robes and scrunched his nose.  
“No…would _definitely_ not say that.” He responded.  
The man chuckled.  
“A-ha, a sense of humor! I knew there was something I liked about you, Robbie.”  
“You know me?”  
The man nodded.  
“Of course I do. Any mage like myself knows of the other mages. Now most aren’t that interesting but…you’re quite a special one.”  
“Me? Special.” Robbie asked, unconvinced.  
“Oh yes. Quite so. Why would the academy go so far as to trap you in a sword if you weren’t special?”  
“I’m pretty sure they trapped me for crimes against magic. An overstatement, sure, but still.”  
“And it’s those ‘crimes’ that I’m interested in.” The man said with a grin.  
Robbie furrowed his brown suspiciously, his grip on the sword growing.  
“You still haven’t introduced yourself you know.” He said coolly.

The man slurped more of the juice and smacked his lips.  
“I suppose I haven’t.” said the man quietly. “At your service, I am Filonius Craw, master mage and sorcerer.”

Robbie’s eyes shot wide as he jumped back against one of the bed posts, his back conking against the wood. Ignoring the pain, he raised his sword and pointed it at Filonius’s neck.  
“Y-You! You’re that dark mage! You wrote that book that got me trapped in the first place!” Robbie angrily spat.  
“Right, yes, and I’m terribly sorry about that. What they did to you was most undeserved.” Filonius said sadly.  
“But h-how? You wrote that book nearly a thousand years ago! You’re supposed to be _dead_!”  
“Well, let’s just say the announcement of my ‘death’ was greatly mistimed.” Filonius mused with a smirk.  
“You’re _evil_.” Snarled Robbie as he jabbed the sword forward, its point now hovering barely half an inch from Filonius’s neck.  
“Hey, hey, I’d be careful with that if I were you. Kill me and who knows what’ll happen to that little spell I placed on you.” Filonius warned.  
“Spell?! What spell?”  
“Well obviously the spell to get you out of that sword, silly! Temporarily, of course, but free nonetheless for the time being.” Filonius answered simply.  
Robbie’s eyes widened further and, slightly, the sword’s point dipped.  
“Wait… _you_ freed me?”  
“Well, I don’t see any other mages around for the next hundred miles.” Filonius answered as he jokingly looked about.  
“But…why?”  
Filonius smiled at Robbie.  
“For a chat.”  
Robbie’s expression blanked.  
“A chat?”  
“Yes, just a few words between mages.”  
“Really.”  
“Yup. Not much more than that.” Filonius shrugged.  
Robbie lowered his sword, frowning.  
“You didn’t need to free me for that, though not that I’m complaining.” He said.  
“I know. I just thought you might be more comfortable this way.” Filonius said as he stood up. “Come, you must be hungry, right? I’ll show you to the dining room.”

“Wait.” Robbie said as he stood.  
Filonius paused and looked back.  
“You said you saved me, right?” asked Robbie, his expression growing grave. “Where’s Sportacus, then?”  
Filonius nodded.  
“Right yes, your elf friend. I’m afraid my associates are still working on helping him.”  
“Associates?”  
“All in good time! Come, the food must be getting cold!” Filonius answered cheerily as he walked out of the room.  
Robbie stared at him skeptically, his eyes falling to the sword still in his hands. Holding it and slinging the glass around his neck, he followed Filonius out of the room.

\--

The two of them walked through the ornate hallways built of marble and silver. The same silver and gold ivy and other plant-life decorated the different archways and pillars, with murals and tapestries depicting grand battles and events hanging from the walls, the tapestries surrounded with inscriptions in a language Robbie couldn’t read.

Echoing through the hallways, he could hear things moving, yet they passed no one on their seemingly endless journey through the hallways. Though, Robbie could feel something was off, and not just because the walls slightly wavered if he stared at them too long.

Filonius, meanwhile, drew a loud and pleased sigh.  
“Beautiful, isn’t it? Alfenheim architecture is absolutely gorgeous. I love how they utilize inspiration and materials from their local areas to mimic the beauty of nature. Even with all this silver and gold, it’s never gaudy.” He gushed.  
“So, we’re in the castle?” asked Robbie.  
“Well, we’re definitely not in the poor house.” Laughed Filonius.  
“It’s less…corrupted and covered in Darkness than I remember.” Robbie noted.  
“Ah, right. That’s just the exterior. The interior, as you can see, is completely intact.” Filonius explained. “A little hard to walk around if there was Darkness essence covering every inch of the floor.”  
“But you got in okay.” Robbie asked skeptically.  
Filonius crooked his mouth and nodded slowly.  
“So did Elder Maron, and we _know_ he’s aligned with the All-Consuming God of Darkness. So, where does that place _you_?” asked Robbie coldly.  
Filonius sighed.  
“I know you have a remarkable brain, Robbie. Figure it out yourself.” He said tiredly.  
At that moment, Robbie jumped back in shock as a corrupted elf maiden sauntered by pushing a large wheelbarrow. Darkness goop seeped from her body and dripped onto the floor, disappearing as soon as it hit the marble. When Robbie peered over at her wheelbarrow, he could see it was filled with Darkness ooze up to its rim, with something else solid seemingly drowned in the goo.  
Robbie recoiled in disgust; Filonius, meanwhile, flatly gestured the elf along.  
“Yes, that’s fine. Put it with the rest.” He said.  
The corrupted elf nodded and croaked before staggering away with the wheelbarrow.

After the elf disappeared around the corner, Filonius turned back to Robbie, only to come face-to-face with the tip of his sword.  
“This again?” asked Filonius with a look.  
“Don’t think I won’t hesitate to use this.” Robbie threatened.  
“And get yourself turned back into a sword? I hardly think you’d try. Besides,” Filonius answered as he snapped his fingers.  
The far off, double doors swung open at his snap.  
“It’s dinner time, and I bet you’re hungry. And we haven’t had our talk yet, and I think you’d owe me at least that, right?”  
Robbie lowered his eyes at the mage, staring untrustingly at the casual look he was giving him.  
Slowly he lowered his sword.  
“Don’t pull anything funny, alright?” He said.  
“Come now, I wouldn’t _dream_ of that. Now come along, I hear the cook made turkey.” Said Filonius as he strode off.

The two uneasily walked along and, upon reaching the doorway, were greeted by a delicious and tantalizing spread of food, a veritable feast for both the eyes and the stomach.

Despite Robbie’s current distrust of his host, he couldn’t help but goggle and stare in awe at the amount and variety of food placed before them. The oak wood, long table was covered with plates of various meats from turkey to whole pig, serving dishes filled with roasted vegetables and glazed fruits of all colors, jugs filled with frothy beer and deep colored wine, baskets of golden baked bread and, of course, an endless cornucopia of all things sugary and frosted.  
Two chairs sat at one end of the table, sitting perpendicular to each other. Filonius strode over and claimed the one at the head of the table.  
“Well, don’t just stand there! Take a seat and get yourself a plate. I personally recommend the ham, it’s _divine_.” Filonius urged as he picked up his own silver plate.  
Robbie, snapping out of his admiration, frowned suspiciously at the food. He raised his hands, which glowed a bright purple, and read the auras of the different food items.  
“Always the suspicious type I see.” Muttered Filonius as he rolled his eyes.  
Much to Robbie’s surprise, there were no curses or hexes placed upon any of the food, nor poisons. The food was untainted and, more importantly, all real.  
Thus, as shameless as it was, with everything checked out, Robbie went for his plate and immediately worked on piling his plate high with different selections of food. He may not have needed to eat for 500 years, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have an appetite.  
As he sat himself down, Filonius poured him a tall glass of beer which flowed a beautiful honey color with a creamy-white foam. He poured himself a glass as he politely ate a piece of ham.  
Robbie was not as contained as he wolfed on a turkey leg, trying his best to hold back his contented sounds at the juicy dark meat and the mixture of seasonings on the skin.  
Anyone who said camping makes food taste better didn’t know a thing. Clearly spending 500 years imprisoned made food taste like heaven.  
Filonius allowed Robbie to work his way through much of his plate, watching the mage gobble up various sides and meats and even savor a few sweet treats, before he spoke again.  
“So, I imagine you have many questions for me and my, well, associates.”

Robbie stopped, with him chewing and swallowing his latest bite of cinnamon bun. His frown returned as he wiped his mouth.  
“You could say that.” He said.  
“Well, I’ll start by saying that I suppose a few things are explained by this. Serving a god like mine offers a few perks, one being a far extended lifespan and eternal youth. Can’t go losing looks like these.” Filonius said with a haughty air.  
“You’re still serving a god of _darkness_.” Robbie pointed out.  
“Hmph, and that’s where you’re wrong, Robbie. But I can hardly blame you for that, our entire country is misinformed about our Malsterath. I, on the other hand, have learned plenty about him and our dear Goddess. I bet you’d love to hear it, I know you love learning about magic.”  
“Right, _you’re_ the only one who knows the truth, right? Everyone else is wrong, but not you of course. I know some people with dowsing rods who might like to chat with you.” Robbie said as he rolled his eyes.  
Filonius frowned darkly, unamused.  
“I really think you should take this more seriously, Robbie. What I’m going to ask, and tell you, is very important.” He said.  
“Then ask it already. My chicken is getting cold.” Robbie said as he took a bite of chicken.  
“Simple. Join us, Robbie.”  
Robbie’s eyes shot wide open as he choked and gagged on his piece of chicken. He took breaths through his nose as he, achingly, eased himself to swallow the piece. He took a gulp of beer.  
“W-What?”  
“You heard me. I’m asking you to join us. I know you’re quite a mage and you’ve already had a taste of Malsterath’s power. Surely you’d love to embrace and indulge within his endless well of magic and - ”  
“Yeah no.” Robbie said flatly as he drank more beer.  
Filonius’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.  
“That’s it? A simple no?” He grumbled.  
“It’s really a question that doesn’t need a complicated answer. It’s like asking if I want another of these chocolate treats. The answer, simply, is yes in this case.” Robbie said as he bit into said chocolate treat.  
“Hmm.” Filonius noted thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps I should try and convince you. Permit me to be a little philosophical then?”  
Robbie looked at him and, after a moment, sighed.  
“I suppose if I say no, you’ll do it anyways?”  
“Yes.” Filonius answered. “Tell me, Robbie, what is the mother of all creation? Of invention? Of innovation?”  
Robbie grumbled and thought a moment, setting his cup down.  
“I don’t know, passion? Love?”  
  
“Conflict.” Answered Filonius. “Everything is created from conflict, whether it be simple frustration or abject, all-encompassing pain. Everything, from this beautiful plate to this gorgeous castle, was created from pain.”  
“Sounds rather pretentious.”  
“I’m serious.” Filonius said darkly. “This castle was created because people wanted to get away from the things that hunted them in the night. They wanted something so their tribes could remain together, with walls strong enough to keep out their enemies and monsters. The silver plate was created from the pain of not having something to match the beauty they witnessed, the _desire_ to emulate the wonder of nature’s stars and stones.”  
He pointed at Robbie’s robes.  
“Those robes, they were created from the pain of not having something to adorn oneself with, and the lack of having something to emulate the beauty they saw in the birds. Clothes themselves were created to mask themselves from the cold.”  
He gestured to the paintings on the wall.  
“ _Art_ , ah now that is something created from emotion, both positive and negative, but even the happy subjects can only be appreciated when you understand what it’s like to _not_ have joy and delight. In a way, pain even created that lovely painting of a singing elf maiden.”  
He looked back at Robbie.  
“And what is the source of pain? Of conflict?” He asked.  
Robbie looked at him with a frown.  
“ _Darkness_ , obviously.” Filonius answered. “Darkness is the source, the womb, of our creative spirit. It drives us, pushes us to create and invent, to strive beyond what would be expected of beings like ourselves, so low to the deities and gods. Without it, what would we be? No better than the slugs that crawl through the dirt.”  
He folded his hands together and smirked.  
“You see what I’m saying? It’s Malsterath that we have to thank for what we are. It is his influence that pushed us to, well, _be_. Everything we know, everything we love, everything we take for granted, all traces back to him. The kingdoms, our clothes, our food, the academy, literature…all thanks to him.”  
Robbie hmphed and sat back.  
“Fine, your opinion, but you can’t expect everyone to _thank_ the god of darkness for introducing pain into their lives, right? I don’t know about you, but I’d still prefer a life without angst and misery.”  
“So you’d rather be what the goddess _intended_ us to be?” asked Filonius darkly.  
Robbie lowered his eyes.  
“I don’t follow.” He said.

Filonius sat back and sighed.  
“You remember the story, right? The story of Malsterath and the goddess’s climactic battle over a thousand years ago?” He asked.  
Robbie nodded.  
“We were created by the goddess, and Malsterath’s influence came afterwards. There was a time, long ago, that we existed without the influence of Darkness. Remember everything I said? We had no need to create, no need to invent, no need to become anything more than how we were born. We were effectively bipedal sheep, _pets_ for the Goddess’s amusement.” Filonius spat angrily.  
Robbie’s expression weakened.  
“Malsterath saw this and was distressed. He _freed_ us at a horrible cost of having us experience his power after our creation, rather than being born with it. He gave us the avenue to become what we are now, and the Goddess hated that.” Filonius continued with a furrowed brow. “She incinerated Malsterath not for being evil and corrupting us, but for _freeing_ us from being nothing but her playthings for the rest of existence. If Malsterath hadn’t come along, that’s all we’d be today: dumb, carefree, naked beings with no capacity to feel _anything_ , because how could we be truly joyous if we don’t understand loss as well?”  
He leaned in close.  
“ _You_ would’ve never become a mage with the ability to learn at an incredible capacity. Your friend the elf could’ve never become a warrior and adventurer. You both would be nothing, not even capable of caring for each other, truly.” He said.  
Robbie frowned.  
“Besides, we _need_ the Darkness. We need Malsterath.” Filonius said, sitting back. “Maybe you don’t agree that Malsterath is our true god, but you can at least agree that we mortals are no longer what the Goddess intended or wanted. You can tell by how she treated you and the elf.”  
“She treated us well.” Robbie contested.  
“Ah, maybe, but what about when you two fell out of sync? What about before you two were getting along?” Filonius pointed out. “You and your friend nearly died multiple times throughout your journeys before she finally granted you the power you desperately needed to save _her_ world, just because you didn’t follow her strict rules.”  
“How do you know about that?” asked Robbie.  
“Again, aligned with a god. Lots of perks.” Filonius responded. “But what about your time here? I watched your friend see his brother, turned into a lifeless, infested soldier and, understandably, he reacted in furious grief. Who wouldn’t? He wanted nothing more than to end poor Maron, perhaps not what the Goddess wanted. But did she at least _save_ you both as you drowned in the Darkness essence? Did she?”

Filonius chuckled and shook his head.

Robbie remained quiet.

“She didn’t, did she? _I_ saved you, and my associates are helping your friend. She didn’t raise a finger when you were both vulnerable, just because you didn’t fit _her_ version of justice and righteousness. Because he wanted to use her power for something as understandable as avenging his brother, and you didn’t agree and wanted to hold back, she _let_ you two be nearly consumed.” Filonius said.  
Robbie frowned and crossed his arms.  
“You can’t disagree, can you? You know it’s true. What if you had access to Malsterath’s power? His isn’t so…discriminatory. You know that, you’ve used his power before.”  
“I never meant to.” Robbie snapped.  
“Nonetheless, you have. You _know_ it doesn’t discriminate. It grows more powerful with the very emotions mortals know well: rage, pain, grief. What mortal hasn’t felt that? Then you have the Goddess, whose power can only be accessed by someone with a pure heart which, in case you haven’t guessed, is nearly no one.” Filonius said. “It’s the readier power, yet the Goddess blinded our world with lies about Malsterath to make us her sheep, so ready to become the useless pets we were long ago, and so ready to stomp out anyone who wants to ask questions. You know, you were imprisoned for it.”  
“Stop lumping me into your little movement, I never have or _will_ serve the All-Consuming God of Darkness.” Robbie growled.  
“You’re so fickle!” Filonius cried exasperatedly. “Do you _want_ to be a pet? A pet for a god? That’s what you’ll be if you help destroy Malsterath again! You’ll only seal our doom!”  
“No, but if the Goddess were so bothered by how we’ve grown, she could’ve easily wiped us off the face of the earth. She didn’t, though. She must see how we’ve progressed and loves it.” Robbie argued.  
“But do you know that for sure?” asked Filonius.  
“I thought that’s what belief’s for.”

Filonius shook his head and ran his hands through his scalp wearily.  
“So…I suppose I wasn’t able to convince you then?” He asked.  
“Not one bit.” Robbie answered annoyedly.  
“I see. How disappointing.” Filonius sighed. “I was really excited to welcome a new apprentice to his fold, but I suppose we can’t get everything we want out of life.”  
His eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers.  
“Ah! But perhaps…I have an ace up my sleeve.” He grinned.  
Robbie eyed him warily.  
“What ‘ace’?” He asked.  
“A demonstration. It was supposed to seal the deal but given how…stubborn you are, perhaps it’ll be what you need to see my point and join us.” Said Filonius as he clapped his hands.  
Distantly, Robbie could hear something rumbling. The glasses on the table rattled.  
He stood from his chair and looked distinctly nervous. A pair of double doors at the end of the room were opened by two corrupted elves.  
“I imagine throughout your journeys you’ve met a few of my creations. When I became Malsterath’s liege, I tasked myself with creating new soldiers for his fold. After all, his creations are…strong enough, but I saw that _more_ could be done and, after all, with his gift of creativity I _must_ use it to show how much I appreciate such a present!”  
Another set of rumbling rang out. A vase on the table toppled over, spilling flowers and dirty water over a plate of food.  
“I started experimenting with corpses, you see. Malsterath’s original creations were, well, masses created purely from his own saturated essence. All good, but his power _feeds_ on emotion, and what has more emotion than a mortal? But living bodies, you see, have enough…power to overcome most of my attempts to persuade them to accept the Darkness to grow inside them. So, corpses were the next best thing. Humans were easy enough, elves a little tougher. I believe that dragon I created was truly one of my finest work, though you two made short work of him.”  
The table nearly bounced, with several plates and dishes being disturbed and flying off the table. Robbie stood in an athletic stance, sweat building on his brow. His eyes were fixed upon the open doorway in anxiousness.  
“But _this_ …this I believe is my masterpiece. I…I almost don’t want to say anything more in case I spoil the surprise! This…oh yes, this is wonderful. You’ll love it.” Filonius said as he wiped a proud tear from his eye.  
Two corrupted elven soldiers stumbled into the light, both tugging a long, heavy chain each. The chains were attached to something yet seen in the dark. Robbie jumped back at the first physical thing he could see: two pairs of white eyes peering at him in the dark.  
“Pull him out! Pull him out!” cheered Filonius excitedly.  
The two soldiers gave one last tug.

As Filonius’s latest creation stumbled into the light, all the blood drained from Robbie’s face. All he could do was stare in terrified, humbled _horror_.

The… _thing_ must’ve stood around seven feet tall. Its entire body was composed of Darkness essence though, unlike the creations before it, the Darkness seemed…stable, almost solid, yet still almost jelly-like in sheen. Its four eyes glared behind a long snout that, currently, was muzzled by a metal cage. From its head extended both a magnificent set of metal antlers, spiked and ornate like an elk’s, and a massive mane of writhing, black hair, curling and furling like fire. It stood bipedal, but its legs were like a wolf’s, with its “paws” covered by thick, blue-black metal that seemed like boots. Its hands, big and meaty, were brandished with long claws formed by the metal gauntlets covering their hands up to their elbows. A metal chestguard covered nearly their entire torso, with the pauldrons sporting spikes long and curved.  
The only thing that seemed to be containing this massive beast were the multiple chains and shackles that kept it restrained by the two corrupted elves, but even they looked like they were struggling. The monster stared hungrily at Robbie, a low growl escaping its muzzled throat.  
“I present to you our newest commander, Behemoth!” said Filonius giddily as he clapped.  
He slid over next to his creation and stroked its arm, which seemed to calm the monster and stopped it from struggling with its restraints.  
“Isn’t he wonderful? Isn’t he majestic? And what power he has! All thanks to Malsterath of course! Now you see what I mean?” He asked Robbie expectantly.  
Robbie, however, was at a loss for words. He shook his head slowly.  
“This…This is a _monster_. This isn’t majestic! I-It’s horrifying!” He cried.  
Filonius’s smile slowly faded, the light not vanishing from his eyes. He let go of the Behemoth’s arm.  
“You don’t like him?” He asked quietly.  
“What did you expect me to say?! It’s a monster like all the others we fought! This is terrible!” Robbie cried.  
Filonius nodded and popped his lips.  
“Well…this is really not going how I hoped it would. I really thought you might at least be impressed with Behemoth. Today is just full of surprises.” He mused.  
He looked at his creation.  
“And our guest insulted you! How do you feel?”  
The Behemoth simply hissed and stared at Robbie.  
“I agree! It was very rude of him!” Filonius said dangerously, his gaze slowly shifting to Robbie.  
Robbie, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, stepped back.  
“You know, you were pretty eager to use your sword earlier. Perhaps a first test for Behemoth…should be _you_?” said Filonius quietly as he snapped his fingers.

Instantly, all of the shackles on Behemoth unlocked and clattered to the floor, including his muzzle. Behemoth, now free, flexed his wrists and opened its wide, toothy maw. The two corrupted soldiers staggered off as quickly as they could.  
Robbie stood his ground but visibly shook with terror. He grabbed his sword and held it out fearfully.  
Filonius, meanwhile, gave him a menacing smile as he drew a circle in the air with his finger, a spiral of green magic eclipsing him.  
“Behemoth…tear him to _shreds_.” He said before he vanished in a flash of light.

Before Robbie could react, the Behemoth swung its arm and slammed into his chest, knocking all the wind out of his lungs and drawing a long, _crack_ from the impact. Robbie went flying through the air and slammed against the wall, him groaning as he slid back to the floor.  
He lifted his head just in time for the Behemoth to open its toothy maw and roar, its claws curled, and its eyes lowered.  
Robbie, gripping his chest, forced himself back onto his feet and lifted his sword.  
The Behemoth leapt up and forward, throwing its arms back, preparing to slam its fists atop Robbie’s head. Robbie gasped and flopped to the side, narrowly missing the monster’s gigantic fists, which smashed a table into splinters.  
Panting, Robbie scrambled to his feet and took ahold of the sword once more. With a cry, he swung the sword over his head and down into the monster’s arm, ricocheting off its armor and digging a gash into its upper arm, the Darkness hissing and splitting into tentacle-like strands that flailed and writhed.  
Howling, the Behemoth reached for Robbie, with him narrowly dodging with a duck.  
Robbie prepared to slice at the creature’s legs, but the Behemoth wound back faster, yanking away once of Robbie’s legs and dangling him upside-down.  
Swiping and slicing, Robbie desperately swung his sword at the beast’s face, leaving small cuts and slices but not deterring the creature from his grip. The Behemoth growled and swung Robbie over its head, slamming him into the dining table and cracking it in half.  
Blacking out, Robbie groaned and struggled to regain his composure, his vision darting and swerving while his back screamed in pain, a blistering hot sting running through his shoulders. He lifted his sword just in time to block another swipe from the Behemoth, who roared and shrieked as it slashed repeatedly, only to meet Robbie’s slowly failing block.  
Robbie’s arms were already wobbling and shaking, his grip loosening as he attempted to hold his ground. He cringed and hissed with each blow that reverberated through his limbs, weakening him further. He stared up into the monster’s enraged eyes, watching how driven the monster was to render him into pieces with single-minded determination.  
Robbie’s hands glowed a bright purple, with said light racing through the blade of the sword. He gasped and exhaled as he forced himself to sit upright and point the blade at the monster’s head.  
“ _Snap!_ ” He shouted.  
The Behemoth squawked as its eyes were temporarily blinded by a sharp flash of light, which sent it staggering back.  
Robbie struggled to get onto his feet. He dropped the sword temporarily as his hands continued to glow. He slapped his hands together with a booming clap.  
The monster’s chest armor glowed a bright purple temporarily before the two sides slammed together. The Behemoth gasped and cried as its chest was sharply smashed, which sent it to its knees.  
Picking up the sword once more, Robbie charged at the monster, his sword lifted above his head in preparation to cleave its neck.  
The Behemoth, however, collected itself, its gaze snapping back up at Robbie. The jewel affixed between its antlers glowed a dim gray and its eyes flashed.  
Robbie gasped as he was suddenly flung back, his back sharply colliding with the wall across the room.

The Behemoth clambered onto its feet and immediately began stalking the downed Robbie, a low growl hissing between its teeth as it approached. It paused only to grab half of the broken table, lifting it up and sending the last of the dishware crashing to the floor. He lifted it up like a bat, seemingly preparing to smash Robbie into a pulp with it.  
Robbie gasped and wheezed on the ground, his back and chest aching in protest as he tried to get back up. His hair fell onto his face as he wearily watched the monster approach, his mind screaming at him to get up but his body refusing.  
He swallowed dryly and grunted as he supported himself against the wall, standing unsteadily. His breathing was labored as he stared down the monster.  
The monster lolled its mouth open, its tongue dangling and dripping ooze onto the ground. Its teeth shone as it growled, its gaze lowering.  
Robbie stuck his one arm not supporting him out, his hand glowing purple. He wasn’t going down without a fight if he could help it.  
The monster seized back, pulling the table half with it, and swung sharply at Robbie’s head.  
Robbie inhaled sharply and threw his hand in a diagonal chopping motion, a crescent of purple energy spinning through the air and slicing the table half in twain, the other piece flying to the ground.  
The remains of the monster’s weapon swung and careened into the ground as he missed, his balance thrown off as it attempted to reel back again.  
Robbie, however, was waiting for him this time.  
“ _Sunlight!_ ” He bellowed, both hands pointed at the monster’s head.  
The beam of blistering, scorching sunlight shot forth from his palms and eclipsed the monster’s head to its neck in blinding light, the monster not even screeching in response.  
Robbie panted as he continued to pour himself into his spell, searing and burning at the monster’s head, with him even stepping closer to intensify the beam.  
A minute passed before the light finally began to weaken and fade. Sweat trickled off Robbie’s brow as he deeply panted, the scorching sunlight vanishing from his hands. His arms collapsed to his side and he only narrowly avoided collapsing onto his knees. As the smoke and steam cleared, he stared as he cautiously waited for the monster to rear up and continue to fight.

As the smoke furled, however, the monster’s body had yet to move. Seconds passed and, finally, the thick smoke began to clear.  
And the sight nearly shattered Robbie’s heart, with him finally collapsing back.  
“N-No…” He gasped.  
The monster’s head had split in four, opening like a wilted blossom with strands of burnt Darkness spilling off the sides, revealing its contents.  
Robbie knew who it was as soon as he saw the barest strands of golden blonde hair.  
Sportacus’s head lifted, and Robbie eyes began to water as he looked into the elf’s dull, glassy eyes, his face framed and held by web-like strands of ooze. He was swallowed up to the base of his neck with Darkness, with no telling if the rest of him laid underneath.  
Robbie’s hand covered his mouth as he tried to stifle his cries. Tears poured down his face.  
“Didn’t I tell you it’s my masterpiece!”

Robbie’s attention snapped upwards towards the source of the voice.  
Sitting atop an unlit chandelier laid Filonius, who he guessed had been hiding there the entire time. He laid casually, almost like he was watching a play rather than a gruesome hunt, his grin almost mocking.  
“Y-You…what did you _do_ to him? What have you _done_ to him?!” Robbie shrieked, his gaze snapping back to Sportacus.  
“What I’ve done is make him the poster child for Malsterath’s true power, that’s what! Look at that, he’s become several _times_ stronger than he ever was before, and he’s not even using his full potential!” Filonius said gleefully. “That essence is absolutely _feasting_ upon every of his raw emotions, every piece of grief and anger he’s grown. And in return, we receive a powerful super soldier!”  
Robbie heard a low groan escape Sportacus’s lips. He looked at him pleadingly, hoping to receive something, _anything_ from his friend.  
The elf, however, only stood there, his eyes still unfocused and dull.  
Robbie gasped and shuddered, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“You _killed_ him…” He muttered.  
“Killed? Oh no! You misunderstand!” Filonius said with a finger waggle. “There’s a reason he’s my masterpiece, and it’s because I accomplished all this while he’s still alive!”  
Robbie’s eyes widened, his tears ceasing for just a moment. Scrambling, he reached for the Blessed Seeing Glass and turned it to Sportacus.  
Sure enough, he could see, below the corrupted armor and essence, the rest of Sportacus’s body. He was intact and, thus, theoretically Filonius was speaking the truth.  
“We simply needed a moment of extreme weakness, you see. My colleague Elder Maron was quite helpful in that, though I’d be lying if I said everything that happened was just for my little experiment. But nonetheless, apparently grief and revenge is just the ticket to making even the Goddess’s chosen hero open to a little tweaking by Malsterath’s essence! Look! Even her armor is bending to Malsterath’s will.” Filonius continued.  
Robbie was only partially listening to Filonius’s lecture. His attention was mostly affixed on Sportacus, and his mind was fumbling to collect all the information while contemplating some sort of plan. If Sportacus was still alive, that meant he could _free_ him, but he had no clue where to start.  
“Just think, he’s like a living battery for just that essence alone, which wasn’t much might I say. All his grief, all his anger, all his rage is fueling the Darkness and creating something far more magnificent that what the Goddess could create with all her petty rules and restrictions. Wonderful, isn’t it? Now do you see?”  
“Shut _up_ , you insipid freak!” Robbie spat. “You’ve turned him into a _monster_!”  
“Monster??” Filonius asked, offended. “How dare you insult Behemoth like that!”  
“His name is _Sportacus_ , you lunatic!” Robbie cried.  
“Hmph, this is really unfortunate. I really thought you might _eventually_ see things my way, but alas, you really do love our _slave owner_ of a deity, don’t you? Shame. Behemoth?”  
Robbie’s heart broke as he watched Sportacus’s gaze lift to look at Filonius.  
Filonius’s hands glowed as he smiled warmly.  
“Let me help you there. We need to get this show on the road.” He commented.  
“Sportacus, no, you don’t need to listen to him. P-Please.” Robbie begged.  
Sportacus simply looked back over, his eyes glassy, as the Darkness rebuilt and strung itself back together, his head vanishing under all the ooze and goop.

The Behemoth’s head reformed, its antlers reconnecting around its gemstone and the creature’s eyes rolling open once more, its mouth splitting open.  
Robbie stepped back, his hands raising and glowing as he stared at the beast warily.  
Except…not the _beast_ , it’s _Sportacus_ , yet it’s very much _not_.  
He was everything and nothing, and Robbie had no clue what to do.  
So frozen in his indecision he was that the Behemoth was able to slam him back against the wall, his claws digging deep into Robbie’s shoulder.  
He squeaked in shock as he felt something hot run down his chest, his other shoulder quickly pinned by the monster’s other hand, leaving him trapped against the wall.  
The Behemoth leaned in, its breath hot against Robbie’s face at it bared its teeth, its maw opening slowly. It growled lowly as its mouth opened wider.  
Robbie forced his eyes shut as he waited anxiously.  
However, rather than feel the horror of teeth sinking into his face or neck, he felt the grip on his shoulders grow tighter before he was unceremoniously chucked across the room once more, his back skidding against the stone floor.  
Robbie groaned and pulled himself onto his knees, the streams of blood from his shoulders being the first thing he saw. He attempted to draw himself upwards, but he was swiftly slammed back against the ground as the Behemoth shoved him flat against the floor.  
“S-Sportacus!” Robbie wheezed, the air blown out of his lungs.  
The Behemoth growled and reached for Robbie’s legs. Grabbing them, he lifted Robbie back up and swung him around his head like a lasso before he chucked him once more. Robbie flew through the air and crashed into a table, which broke into pieces upon his impact.  
Blearily, Robbie lifted his glowing hands and threw them into a side motion, him messily drawing a defensive wall in front of him, which flickered a pale purple color.  
The Behemoth stalked forward once more and hesitated at the sight of the forcefield. It lowered its eyes at Robbie, its gemstone glowing once more before a beam of white light poured forth, crashing and splashing against the purple field.  
Robbie cried and grunted as he threw his strength into his spell, hands staying firm and fingers twiddling as he tried to cast more power into the field. The force of the Behemoth’s spell, however, was quickly growing too great to counter. The shield soon filled with cracks.  
In a horrible crash, the field shattered.  
The Behemoth snarled and shot another beam of magic straight at Robbie, with it colliding with his chest.  
Robbie was instantly knocked near unconscious, the burning beam searing against his chest and ripping at his robe. He slumped against the floor, his mind spinning as he felt himself be picked up once more and thrown, another beam of magic colliding into him mid-air and firing him into the floor.

The floor cracked and caved as Robbie slammed down against it, his hair a disheveled mess and his robes torn and burned. He laid there, still and limp, his arms and legs only slightly twitching. He forced his eyes open as he tried to make himself stand but failed. He laid flat against the ground, his body screaming with pain and fatigue.  
He heard the Behemoth approach once more, the beast looming over him and casting a dark shadow. In the monster’s hands was the split table half once more, lifted above his head.  
…no.  
Not monster.  
It was still _Sportacus_ , and the thought left Robbie feeling helpless.  
Groaning, he tried to lift his hands to form some sort of counter-spell, _anything_ to keep him alive.  
Yet, the mixture of fatigue and conflict left him unable to. He lowered his hands and stared mournfully at the beast that was once his friend.  
A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared.  
“S-Sportacus…” He coughed, his chest protesting.  
The Behemoth stared down at him.  
“I-I don’t know if you can hear me in there. I-I don’t even know if you’re really _there_ , but…but if you are, I just want you to know how happy I am to have met you. You’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had a-and…and I _care_ about you. You got me to care again.”  
The Behemoth still stared silently, the table half still above his head.  
“A-And I so much wished that this…this didn’t end like this but…but I’m still happy to have known you.” Robbie said with a weak smile, his arm clasped around his chest. “And…I’m so sorry I couldn’t free you from this…this _monstrosity_.”  
Robbie gritted his teeth as he watched the beast lift the table higher. He closed his eyes and flinched, waiting for the sharp agony of being bludgeoned to death.

Instead, he sensed a hesitation. A missed beat, a pause too long.

And then, he heard something crash a bit away from him.  
He dared to open his eyes, and he saw the table half laying on the ground to the side of the Behemoth.  
Looking at the beast, he could see the monster stand tall, but his posture was far less aggressive. Instead, he seemed almost lost, his arms dangling at his side, his eyes wide and confused looking.  
“Hey! Behemoth! It’s not quite break time yet! Go and finish him off please!” shouted Filonius as he snapped his fingers.  
The Behemoth closed his eyes and shook his head, his hands raising up to clasp at the sides of his head. A low groan rolled up his throat.  
Robbie’s pained expression grew punctuated with surprise, his brow furrowing. He forced himself to sit up, his arm wrapped around his chest, the other helping him to stagger and stumble back onto his feet. Another cough escaped him, and he felt something warm trickle past his lips.  
Yet, his attention wasn’t on that at the moment. He instead watched the Behemoth curl towards itself, its claws digging into its own head. Its four eyes were screwed shut and it continued to growl and hiss.  
His eyes widened and, slowly, he dragged his feet to approach it.  
His free hand cautiously reached towards the beast.  
“There! Behemoth! Get him!” Filonius cried.  
Two of the Behemoth’s eyes snapped open and, in an instant, he swung back and dug his claws deep into Robbie’s side, sending the mage sprawling back to the ground with new gashes to add to the collection.  
Robbie groaned and struggled to rise back up to his knees. He hesitated, waiting for another blow, only it again never came.  
He looked over at the Behemoth, seeing it loom above him, its gaze not aggressive yet confused once again.  
With a grunt, Robbie rose to his feet and approached the beast, his hand out and extended.  
The Behemoth growled and backed up, its claws curling.  
“Sportacus, it’s just me.” Robbie said calmly. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”  
The Behemoth lowered its eyes at him, looking warily.  
“I know you’re in there somewhere. Please, let me help you.”  
The Behemoth bared its teeth menacingly.  
Robbie let go of his side and, hesitating for a moment, he gently placed his hands on the sides of the beast’s head.  
Instantly, his skin flared a bright red color and a burning sensation raced up his arms, pulling a shuddered cry from him. Nevertheless, he didn’t let go and instead looked in the Behemoth’s eyes.  
“P-Please,” Robbie managed to say. “let me in.”

The Behemoth growled lowly, its body remaining tense and at the ready.  
Its teeth remained bared as his maw slowly opened, his tongue hanging low.  
And then, out of nowhere, it uttered in a voice hollow and inhuman:  
“ _Failed._ ”

Robbie rapidly blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing.  
“Failed? What do you mean?” He asked.  
The Behemoth breathed deeply, its breathing raspy.  
“ _Brother. Dead._ ” It answered slowly, a growl punctuating its statement.  
Its claws flexed and unflexed tensely at its sides.  
“ _People. Gone. Home. Gone._ ” It continued, its mane flaring and flickering ever faster.  
Suddenly, its eyes slitted, and a low growl gurgled in its throat.  
“ _All gone. Failed. Failed. FAILED._ ” It howled as it surged forward, knocking straight into Robbie.  
The air in Robbie’s lungs escaped in a short gasp as Robbie struggled to reach for the Behemoth’s head once more.  
“Sportacus! Stop!” He cried as he forcefully grasped at the Behemoth’s head, his hands glowing as he invoked a short calming ritual.  
Instantly, the Behemoth ceased its charged. Its white eyes glazed for a moment as it settled back in a hunched position. It hissed in a perturbed fashion until Robbie released his grasp, returning to his gentler hold on the sides of its head.  
Robbie looked into the Behemoth’s eyes with a worried look, his hands even gently rubbing circles into his temples, even as his skin continued to scream and burn.  
The Behemoth sucked in a breath.  
“ _Was hero. Supposed…to save. Everyone. But…failed. All gone, all my fault_.” The Behemoth elaborated.  
Its hands were trembling.  
Robbie gritted his teeth and shook his head.  
“Damnit…Sportacus, no. You didn’t _fail_ , this is why I said – “He started angrily.  
He paused, then sighed.  
“ – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I…I just was worried.” He said.  
“ _Brother dead._ ” The Behemoth muttered. “ _Murdered._ ”  
“And it’s completely not okay! It isn’t!” Robbie said emphatically. “It isn’t, this all isn’t. But… _this_ here isn’t okay either.”

The Behemoth’s hands rose up and clasped over Robbie’s, its claws digging into its head.  
“ _Destroy. Destroy. DESTROY. CAN’T. WON’T. MUST DO SOMETHING.”_ It bellowed as its gaze snapped up to Robbie, its maw dropping open wide.  
Robbie gasped, and his face went white. But, nonetheless, whether from fright or actual bravery, he stood his ground.  
“What would destroying anything do, Sportacus?! It won’t bring your brother back!” Robbie yelled, instantly regretting his words.  
Yet, somehow, something clicked. The Behemoth’s eyes shot wide, its trembling ceasing abruptly.  
Robbie gasped and stared at the beast with scared and watering eyes.  
“I…I’m sorry. I’m really bad at this, but…you’re scaring me, Sportacus. This isn’t you.” He said quietly.  
The Behemoth blinked. From one of its eyes, dripping slowly, a drop of Darkness slipped down its cheek and plopped on the floor. Its mane had slowed its whipping and twisting.  
“Please.” Robbie said softly.  
Another drop slipped from the Behemoth.  
“ _Can’t let go. M-My…fault. Supposed to save them and couldn’t. H-Hate…Hate…_ ” It muttered, its voice shaking.  
Its claws sunk deeper into its head.  
“ _Hate, hate, HATE…hate me…_ ” It mumbled.  
“No, no _damnit_ no, Sportacus.” Robbie said with a choked cry. “No, none of this is your fault.”  
“ _Could’ve –_ “  
“No, stop. Stop, Sportacus, this _isn’t_ your fault. None of this is! Look,” Robbie said weakly. “you’ve had a lot of ‘chosen hero’ crap lobbed at you our whole adventure. People are looking to you to solve everything and save everyone perfectly but, guess what? Even with the blessed armor, you’re still just one guy!”  
Robbie took a breath and shakily exhaled, the Behemoth watching.  
“You might be chosen, but that doesn’t mean that when things go wrong that it’s your fault. You’re one guy and you’ve done so much so far. You’ve helped countless people and kingdoms, you’ve restored balance and brought hope. But even you can’t be everywhere at once. I know it’s hard to swallow, but you just _can’t_.”  
He looked at the Behemoth and noticed how low his mane seemed to flicker now.  
“But…But I know. It doesn’t make any of this easier to deal with. And it shouldn’t be easy to deal with, it shows how much you loved everyone. But I want you to know at least that none of this was your fault. No one blames you for what happened, _especially_ not your brother.” He said quietly.

The Behemoth’s head lowered, its eyes drooping, its mane flickering even lower.  
Robbie carefully pulled one of his hands free, ignoring how red and irritated it looked, and gently began to stroke its neck, running his fingers through its mane.  
Slowly, the Behemoth’s body untensed. Along with that, however, came more dripping, with its once solid arms and legs growing less stable and more ooze-like. More streams of Darkness poured onto the floor. Despite that, he didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he laid his head against Robbie’s chest.  
“What are you thinking now?” asked Robbie quietly as he gently led him to the ground.  
The Behemoth’s armor darkened in color, flecks of dark gray flaking off the metal. He lowered onto his knees, his hands continuing to prop himself up but his head now in Robbie’s arms.  
“ _Hurts…it hurts…_ ” He muttered lowly.  
“I know, I know.” Robbie soothed as he continued to soothe the beast.  
The mane flickered as it continued to shrink, until it finally died out. The monster’s eyes drooped shut.  
The drips and drops of Darkness from the beast’s body had escalated into full pools beneath him, his body mass shrinking. Slowly, Robbie could see the outline of Sportacus’s body grow visible, his clothes stained by the Darkness.  
Robbie pulled his hands back for just a moment, a sticky dozen of strings of Darkness gripping his palm like melted cheese. The Behemoth’s face melted and dripped, leaving little to hold. Robbie only moved enough to pull his legs out of the way, yet he still held the Behemoth in his lap as the monster slowly melted away, steam hissing upwards and the ooze bubbling.

Filonius, from his hiding spot, watched with a reddening face.  
Robbie looked upwards and shot a dirty look at the mage.  
Filonius simply shook his head and sighed before snapping his fingers. He disappeared in a flash of green light.

Robbie, with Filonius gone, turned his attention back to the Behemoth, only to find the entirety of the monster’s body melted into a thick puddle of seemingly inert Darkness. He could feel the weight of Sportacus’s body on his lap, but the elf was completely obscured by the ooze.  
Bracing himself and ignoring his protesting body, Robbie yanked and worked to free Sportacus of the pool, with him brushing and scraping away the thicker ribbons of Darkness that gripped the elf’s torso and legs, and with him digging through the pools to ensure that all of Sportacus was accounted for.  
The hero now far from the sickeningly bubbling pool, Robbie busied himself with cleaning away the essence from Sportacus’s face and hair, his golden locks slowly revealing themselves beneath the stains of black. His purple robe grew increasingly stained and messy as he wiped and cleaned. He rubbed furiously, the first patches of Sportacus’s skin becoming visible.  
He wiped and scrubbed, cleaning endlessly, until the hero’s face was mostly clear. Sportacus laid still in his arms.  
  
Robbie, now taking a break from his task, looked worriedly as the hero continued to not move.  
He adjusted Sportacus, so he laid with his back against his lap, his head propped under one of his hands.  
“Sportacus?” He asked nervously, his other hand brushing a stray lock from Sportacus’s face.  
He waited, growing increasingly scared as the hero didn’t move. Then, eventually, Sportacus sputtered and coughed, a trail of Darkness spilling past his lips. His eyes, tired and worn, fluttered open, half-lidded and barely present.  
“H-Hey…” Sportacus said, his voice hoarse.  
Robbie sighed and laughed in relief, a few tears rolling down his face.  
“Y-You’re such a jerk, d-don’t do that again you scared me.”  
Sportacus gave a weak smile and laughed softly.  
“I promise…” He said in a near whisper. “…I’m sorry.”  
“Hey. I’m just glad you’re alive.” Said Robbie, his hand travelling to cup Sportacus’s face.  
Robbie nearly froze, realizing what he was doing. He nearly pulled away when Sportacus gently reached for his, him holding Robbie’s hand.  
Robbie’s face burned a bright red.  
“S-So…this is what you look like?” Sportacus asked softly.  
Robbie smiled a half-smirk and awkwardly chuckled.  
“Yeah, this is me. So…everything you hoped for, or a little disappointing?” He asked with a laugh.  
Sportacus, however, only looked at him warmly.  
“No. You’re perfect.”  
Robbie’s smirk dropped, and his cheeks grew redder.  
“O-Oh, uh,” Robbie said with a nervous chuckle. “thanks?”  
Sportacus gently rubbed Robbie’s hand with his thumb.  
“I-I…I can’t believe…this is _you_. I should’ve known, I…” He said.  
Robbie looked at him confusedly.  
“…never mind, long story.” Sportacus said as he leaned into the crook of Robbie’s elbow.  
Robbie smiled.  
“It’s okay.” He said softly.

The two sat there for a little while, Sportacus resting in Robbie’s lap with the mage watching over him, his hand carded through Sportacus’s hair. Robbie, internally, hoped it’d never end, or more that the circumstances weren’t so dire and Sportacus hadn’t gotten here by being corrupted and him nearly dying. But he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

However, he still felt himself droop a little when a funny feeling ran through his body, his senses dulling and his vision slightly clouding.  
He pulled away his hand and his face grayed.  
His hand was translucent, and small sparks of green light danced from his fading fingertips.  
Filonius’s words ran through his mind.  
“Right. Only temporary.” He said quietly and sadly.  
His gaze returned to Sportacus.  
The hero had fallen asleep in his arms, his expression peaceful.  
Robbie smiled warmly at the hero.  
“Don’t rest too long, Sportadork. We’ve still got a big job to do.” He said with a smirk.  
The smirk faded.  
“I wish I could actually fight alongside you, you know, like _this_. But…but maybe it won’t be like this much longer.” He said hopefully.  
He laughed quietly.  
“Hopefully everything you said wasn’t just the delusional ramblings of a tired man. Otherwise…darn this will suck.” He chuckled weakly.  
He looked at Sportacus once more, then at himself. Half of him had nearly vanished already.  
With his time running out, Robbie looked at Sportacus once more. He chewed his lip, hesitating.  
Finally, he went for it, placing a small kiss upon Sportacus’s brow.  
“See you soon.” Robbie said softly.

With that, Robbie closed his eyes, and the last of him faded away into a flurry of green sparkles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp...that was a lot! I think anyways. Stuff is going down lol.
> 
> Just a warning that the next chapter might be a while, chalk it up to a mixture of holidays, not feeling well, and figuring out what to do with a certain plot point I feel conflicted on. It will go up eventually, but I apologize that it might be a while. At least this didn't end on a cliffhanger, right?
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
